Over By Christmas?
by debbiexmx
Summary: Everything we experience in life, shapes the people we become. Tommy Shelby was a different person before France. As Britain is thrust into uncertain times, Tommy is pushed to his limits and must overcome the horrific experiences of war if he is to survive. He must rely on those around him to get through but how will be manage this? and who will be there to help?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – Hi all! I decided to start a new story. I know I should probably finish my other one, but this has been playing in my head for a while and I just had to put it down in writing. I felt as though most Peaky Blinders stories on here are focused on the time after the war and not many focus on Tommy and the Shelby's beforehand and during WW1. This is something I've studied at school (albeit that was quite a while ago!) but its an area I am really interested in and have tried to research as much as possible to make sure it is accurate. I'm also trying to imagine what I believe Tommy would have been like before France. I hope you enjoy. I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this and whether you think this is something you'd like to see continued.**

 **Chapter 1 - 1914, An Uncertain Future**

August 5 1914

During any other year, the date would likely be insignificant, but this year, things had changed. As Thomas Shelby made his way through the normally quiet streets of Small Heath, he wasn't overly surprised to hear the agitated and anxious voices surrounding him. Stopping by the newspaper stand, he handed over a small coin and lifted the days copy.

"Great Britain declares war on Germany" the Daily Mail headline screamed. Thomas' eyes drifted over the headline and started to read down the accompanying words. The move to war had taken many by surprise, despite tensions rising across Europe over the last few months. But ever since the news of the assassination of the Archduke in Sarajevo had spread, a domino effect had taken place over the last few weeks, now resulting in the invasion of Belgium the day before and the retaliation of the British Government.

Being one to try and keep abreast of current affairs, Thomas had some idea as to what this would mean for the people of Britain and at twenty-four years old, he was prime age for war, as were two of his brothers, Arthur and John, both twenty-seven and nineteen years old respectively. Finn, the youngest, was only six and still too young to really understand the enormity of the state of affairs. Thomas folded the newspaper and began the short walk back to his home on Watery Lane. His Aunt Polly would no doubt be there. Having taken on the role as primary carer for the Shelby family following the death of his mother, Thomas was used to seeing her daily. He had to admit, despite her fiery demeanour and icy cold stare, she had become the backbone of their family, ensuring that the youngest were well taken care of. She had done particularly well with seventeen-year-old Ada, the only girl in the family. Losing her mother so young had been hard, but Polly had stepped into the role with ease, bringing Ada out of her shell.

Taking long strides along the cobbled streets, Thomas nodded to his neighbours as they exited their homes. He smiled at the small children who rushed about his feet and said 'hello' to Harry Fenton as he unlocked the doors to the Garrison Pub, ready for the early morning rush. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his slightly long dark hair, ruffling it gently. He wore a pale blue shirt and dark fitted trousers and matching jacket. His shoes weren't as polished as they could be, and he knew his mother would curse him if she could see him now.

Finally reaching his door, Thomas pushed down the handle and stepped into the sitting room. It was empty, but he could hear muffled voices coming from the nearby kitchen. Taking a seat, he lifted one foot and rested it across the opposite knee and opened the newspaper which had been nestled under his arm.

"Thomas?"

He glanced up at the now open doorway which joined the kitchen to the sitting room and smiled briefly as his Aunt Polly appeared. She leaned against the door frame and allowed her gaze to drift over him. She was dressed in a mid-waist black ankle length skirt and wore a black tunic shirt. Her hair fell around her shoulders in loose ringlets, pinned at the nape of her neck. Her lips were pursed slightly causing small wrinkles to appear around her cheeks.

"Mornin' Pol." Thomas smiled up at her, lifting his piercing blue eyes from the newspaper.

She took a few steps into the room and sat down on the nearby sofa. "I've just sent Finn out to play. How are you feelin' today Thomas?" she asked, cautiously.

He eyed her warily. He knew what she was getting at. For the past few weeks, his normally pleasant manner had been recently replaced by sadness and melancholy following Greta's death. For three months, he had held her hand, refusing to leave her bedside until she had finally succumbed to consumption. Greta Jurossi had been his first love. His first experience of true love and losing her had been one of the most difficult things he had ever had to deal with, almost as difficult as the pain of losing his mother. His heart had been broken into a thousand pieces following her death and there were days where he didn't think he would be able to get out of bed. He spent a lot of time down at the cut, reminiscing about their time together. Thinking about the nights when she would sneak off to meet him. They had been young, but not so young that they didn't understand how they felt about each other. She had only been nineteen when she died. The thought made him shudder. It was no age at all. It wasn't right that someone so young, could just die. He vividly remembered their trip to Blackpool. Having taken the train, they had arrived in the seaside village one warm afternoon and spent the rest of the day wandering hand in hand along the long promenade. The Tower had been the highlight for Thomas, having only been opened twenty years earlier, it had been a sight to behold, bringing a touch of Paris to the west coast of England. They spent a lustful night in a local hotel before spending the next afternoon exploring the town on the state of the art tramway, wandering along the North Pier and screaming wildly as they enjoyed Sir Hiram Maxims Captive Flying Machine at the fun filled, aptly named, Pleasure Beach. Thomas had been incredibly sad when their weekend had come to an end and the mood on the train ride home had been distinctly different from their journey there. Yet, looking back on it now, he was thankful they had that time together. He only wished now, that they'd had more time. More trips and more experiences together. He'd imagined her as being the one he would marry, the one who would bear his children, and the one he would grow old with. But now, he was alone again, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it.

"I'm fine, Pol." He finally answered her, pulling his cigarettes from the breast pocket of his dark grey suit jacket. He offered one to her which she accepted. Lighting both, he leaned back in his chair, allowing the newspaper to rest across the tops of his legs.

"We're all worried about you Thomas." Polly explained, taking a short drag of the cigarette.

"You needn't be." He batted off her concern like a tennis ball. "I think we all have more pressing concerns to deal with."

She nodded, understanding his worry of being drafted. He had visions of his role within Small Heath. His ambitions were evident, and he had set his sights on starting his own business, preferably keeping it within his family, but the death of Greta had put his plans on the backburner. Any talk of war and going to the front would likely scupper that further.

"What do you expect will happen?"

"Not sure, Pol. Not sure." He got to his feet and made his way through to the kitchen, lifting the warm teapot from the stove. Pouring out two cups, he headed back into the sitting room and handed Polly one, which she gratefully accepted. "I think we should be prepared. The sounds coming from the Commons indicate that our current Army numbers are not high enough compared to the enemy. They'll have to make up the numbers one way or another."

Polly nodded into her cup, saying nothing. The thought of her boys being sent to war was difficult to stomach. She took a drink, almost spluttering as a loud noise coming from the front door startled her. She looked up as John and Arthur came bustling rambunctiously into the room.

"Tom!" John rushed over to his older brother. "Have you seen this?"

Thomas looked up at the crumpled newspaper being held out under his nose. It was different from the one he had bought, yet the headline was similar in the message it conveyed. Nodding, Thomas took another drink.

"It isn't something to get excited about John." He muttered.

John scoffed, pulling the newspaper back and handing it over to Polly's outstretched hand. "Are you kiddin'? What could be more excitin'? We get to go and show these German bastards why we're called GREAT Britain." He stated, putting emphasis on the word 'great.' "We battle it out for a few months, kick their arses and come back to a hero's welcome!"

Shaking his head, Tommy got to his feet and made his way back to the front door. He placed his hand on the handle and gently pulled it open. Looking back at his family, he buttoned up his suit jacket. "I'm glad you think it will be that easy, brother."

October 31 1914

Halloween was usually such a joyful night for the children of West London. The local schools would decorate the iron gates in bunting and place pumpkins along the pathways which led up to the entrances and parents would help their children make terrifying masks out of papier-mache. But as Emily King paced the winding streets on her way to Hammersmith Hospital, she couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet the streets were. She kept her eyes down as she walked along Barlby Road, the large, brick building coming into view up ahead. She had spent the last two years of her life here as a nurse and loved every minute of it. She thrived on the fact that she never knew what would be coming through the door next. Since the war had begun, Emily had an inkling that her workload would likely increase with potential casualties. Unlike her peers, she struggled to see the romance behind the conflict and couldn't buy into the premise that the war would be over by Christmas. The reports being fed back through the newspapers seemed unrealistic and she promised herself she would not be taken in by the propaganda. As she reached the main door, she loosened her long coat and made her way inside.

Despite it being only six thirty in the morning, the hospital entrance was already overcrowded with people. Emily took a few moments to gather her thoughts before making her way across the mosaic tiled floor towards the main staircase. Taking the steps quickly, she made her way towards her designated ward and into the nearby nurses station. Pulling off her coat, she quickly hung it up before pinning her crisp white nurses cap firmly into place, tucking any loose strands of hair away. She glanced up at the small mirror in front of her and studied it slightly. Her hair was dark, almost ebony, almost unnatural for someone so English. Her sallow skin was dusted with light freckles across her cheekbones and nose and her eyes looked almost grey to the naked eye, but when you looked very closely, shades of blue and light greens dotted themselves around the irises. She had been an unusual sight, particularly when she was at school. She had been surrounded by mostly blond haired children growing up and her mother had worried that she would have been a target for mean comments and ridicule, but yet, the children were fascinated by her. Following their many questions, Emily had gone home to her mother and questioned her ancestry, trying to make sense of her different appearance. They had a long discussion about her father and his roots and she was amazed to find out that her grandparents had been Italian immigrants, resulting in her almost exotic appearance. Smiling briefly at the thought, Emily dropped her eyes down and straightened her uniform before making her way into the ward, smiling at her colleagues as she began her rounds.

"Good Morning Miss King."

The friendly voice greeted her as she stepped into the ward, taking her steps quietly as she noted many of her patients were still asleep. She hated this time of the morning. She almost felt guilty for forcing people from their slumber, but the matron would not hear of anyone still asleep past eight a.m.

"Good morning Mrs Brown." Emily stifled a yawn, pushing past the tiredness that plagued her. Ever since the war effort had begun, she had struggled to sleep at night. Slowly, she had begun to see patients appearing at the hospital who had been injured in the conflict. The numbers had been slow and steady so far, given that many would likely be treated at makeshift hospitals on the front, but on occasion, some would find their way back to England for treatment. The visions of these men haunted her at night, but she pushed through, trying to remind herself this was exactly the reason why she chose a career in medicine. She wanted to help people and despite all her efforts here, she wanted to do more. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as you can in here I suppose, dear."

Mrs Ethel Brown was an ageing woman. Picking up the chart which hung at the bottom of her bed, Emily glanced over it, taking in any changes to the Doctors instructions from the day before. It wasn't usual for any changes to be made overnight, but Emily had been caught out before, and as a result, had received a stern telling off from the on-duty Doctor for not noticing a change to the frequency of the patients medication. That night, she had gone home and cried into her pillow, having never felt so humiliated in her life. She had only been nineteen at the time, still young and naive, but yet, he had treated her with utter contempt, as if she had done it on purpose. Ever since then, Emily meticulously studied patients charts on a daily basis. She noted that Mrs Brown was sixty-seven years old, a stellar age to get to in those times, but Emily could tell by the woman's shoes and clothes which were kept nearby, that she was fairly well off. Whenever her husband came to visit, he would bring grapes, a fairly expensive luxury and one that Emily was thankful for, as Mrs Brown often offered out a couple to her as she was doing her rounds. As much as she enjoyed her company, Emily couldn't help but feel concerned at the woman's fate. Tuberculosis had caused her to be kept in hospital for some time now, and Emily had seen more than enough cases of this to know it wasn't easy to fight. She prayed every night for the quick recovery of the patients she tended to, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe they would all survive. Pushing the dark thoughts from her mind, she plastered a smile on her face and continued making her way around her patients.

December 22 1914

'Over by Christmas' Tommy scoffed as he thought back over the broken promises and assumptions that had been made over the last few months. Christmas was quickly approaching, and Tommy knew he would be expected at Polly's for lunch. Honestly, he could think of another million things he would rather do. It was the first Christmas he would be spending without Greta, and the pain of that was difficult to bear. But given that, he knew it wouldn't be worth the hassle not to go. Polly would no doubt hunt him down and insist he spent time with the family. Anything to keep his mind off past memories and current concerns. It was clear to him that despite everyone's assurances, the battles being fought abroad were escalating, not reducing. There had been talk of a potential truce being called and he had heard reports of Pope Benedict pleading for the fighting to end, but yet, nothing seemed to make a difference. The queues at the war offices across the city ran for miles and the brothers had already signed up. John was determined that he would have some involvement, however small. Thomas and Arthur, however, were not as keen but recognised that it may be better to sign up voluntarily as no one could guarantee that men wouldn't be forced to the Front. Several men from the area had already been sent to France and from the letters which were coming back to local families, Thomas could tell the experiences were nothing like what was being reported in the press. Mothers wept on the street at the news of trench warfare which began to dominate the Western Front and they cried out for their young sons, husbands, brothers and fathers who were currently stationed there. Thomas stood from the small wooden chair he was sitting in and made his way over to the fireplace. Leaning against the ledge, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Nothing could push the images from his mind and he wondered how he was going to handle the inevitable. Making moves across the room, he reached the side table and lifted a small upturned glass. He set it the right way up and lifted a nearby whisky bottle. Glancing up at the clock on the fire surround, he noted it was only one p.m. Not being one to drink so early, he winced as he poured the amber liquid into the glass and threw it to the back of his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 -Shouldn't it be over by now?**

December 31 1914

Polly Gray watched in amusement as John and Arthur swung their younger sister around the room. Despite the brutality of the current climate, the family were in good spirits. The drink was flowing at the Garrison pub and the locals had all come together to try and forget everything else that was going on. John's young wife Martha sat beside her, her protruding belly pressing against the small table. Despite her current condition, she was keeping well, and Polly couldn't wait to welcome the new addition. In spite of John's larkish behaviour, she had no doubt in his abilities as a father and knew he would step up, knowing exactly how much he adored his other children. Glancing around, she reached forward and lit a cigarette, bringing it up to her lips. She took in the sight of Johnny Dogs clapping and dancing around with Curly, Thomas' stable hand. Finally, her eyes landed on a solitary figure sat in the corner of the pub. His eyes were firmly staring ahead but there was a vacant, expressionless look on his face. Polly got to her feet, excusing herself to Martha and made her way across to the table. Pulling out the small stool from underneath, she took a seat.

"You're missing Greta aren't you, Thomas?"

Awoken from his thoughts, Thomas' eyes fell upon his Aunt who he hadn't even noticed approaching him. He shrugged as he took a sip of his whisky. Watching the people around him, he focused on his younger brother, who was now dancing with his very pregnant wife and their three small children. Following his line of sight, Polly could understand the pain in her nephews face. She knew first hand how it felt to have something close to you ripped away without warning. She thought back to the night ten years previous when her peaceful evening with her two young children had been disrupted. Michael and Anna had been so young, and she recollected the screams coming from them as they had been dragged away from her. She placed her hand upon Thomas' and gently rubbed the protruding vein which ran along the entire back of his hand.

"It will get easier Thomas, I promise you that."

He looked up at her and stifled a small smirk. Taking another drink, he turned his body to face her. "We're all going to end up in France, Pol. You understand that, right?"

"You don't know that Thomas." She rejected.

"I do know that Pol. The British Army cannot survive another six months of this war with the numbers they have. If nothing is done, the Germans will have it won by the Summer. Please don't be so naïve. We all knew this would be a possibility when we all signed up. It's simply a waiting game now." Thomas took another drink. "Whilst I admit that nothing would make me happier than to have Greta here with me, it is probably for the best."

"And why is that?" Polly pursed her lips.

"Because there's every likelihood she would have ended up a widow anyway."

January 20 1915

Things were bad. Very bad. Emily struggled to decipher the words as they played out in front of her.

"German air raid on East Coast"

The enormity and the reality of the situation was finally becoming clear for the British people as the country was attacked from the skies following the dropping of German bombs on Great Yarmouth and Kings Lynn. Emily could barely stomach the small sandwich which sat in front of her, currently untouched. The newspaper had been left behind by someone else that day, and curiosity had gotten the better of her. Having tried to ignore some of the details from the national media, she realised that she couldn't avoid it forever. She read the brutal facts of the attack, trying to understand how they could have been caught off guard. Since that fateful night, street lights were dimmed before night fell and Emily couldn't help but feel nervous as she walked home after her shift. Despite being twenty-three, she still lived with her mother and two younger siblings, Mary and Henry. Since their father had died three years earlier of influenza she couldn't imagine leaving her mother to look after such young children. Mary had recently turned twelve and Henry was only five. Despite Emily's ambitions to see the world, she knew it was likely just a pipe dream given the poor wages she received for her work. She dreamed of going to University and becoming a Doctor but realistically, she knew it was implausible. But now, with all that was happening, she saw her place in life and didn't believe it was here. She wanted to help in any way that she could.

March 24 1915

"But mother, there is no threat to us here."

Emily paced the small living room as much as she could, given the minimal space available to her. Her mother was sitting in the chair at the opposite end of the room and her two younger siblings were both asleep in the nearby bedroom.

"Emily, please don't argue. I've sent a telegram to your Aunt Isabel. I received a response today. We are going to stay with her for a while. London is no longer a safe place."

Emily shook her head with frustration. "But mother, if there was any concern, they would be evacuating the cities, but they're not. Asquith hasn't so much as mentioned it in the Commons."

"We've already seen air raids going on in the coastal towns. How do we know they won't look to bomb our major cities? London would be a prime target." Helen King lifted her slightly chipped cup and took a sip of the now lukewarm tea. Her concerns had been rising over the last few weeks. Ever since the air raids in Yarmouth and Lynn, she had worried that the enemy would look to target one of the major cities and despite the assurances from the Prime Minister that there was no immediate danger, she didn't want to risk her young families life. Having had conversations with her sister, Isabel, she had managed to secure lodgings with her for a few weeks. _'Just until all this nonsense blows over'_ she had reasoned with herself. But now, having to deal with the stubbornness of her eldest child, was not making the process any easier.

"But Aunt Isabel lives in Birmingham!" Emily cried. "That is miles away. What about my job?"

"I'm sure they'll need nurses in Birmingham." Helen reasoned, dismissing her protest. "Now, get to bed. Its late. We leave first thing on Friday."

"That's only two days away." Emily was irritated by this. It had taken her so long to finally crack her way into a respectable position within the hospital and now, to just walk away from it was killing her. She could only hope that when she returned, they would be understanding and accept her again.

March 26 1915

John Shelby couldn't deal with much more. His three young children were running him ragged, and despite trying to bribe them with promises of sweets and treats, they still wouldn't calm down long enough for him to get them into bed. Darkness had quickly drawn in and he was exhausted. Rubbing his tired eyes, he gave in to his eldest's insistent demands. Sitting down on the worn green armchair which sat in the corner of the room, he watched as Katie attempted to climb up his legs, stopping once she got onto his lap and then used the smoothness of his trousers as a makeshift slide, sliding her way back down to the floorboards, cheering with glee. She would slip off his feet with a rough thud on the floor and quickly climb back up to have another go. He pleaded with her to keep the noise to a minimum as he could no longer hear the sobs coming from the other room where his youngest two children were being put to bed by Martha. He could only hope they had tired themselves out. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, trying to understand how he had ended up in this position. Twenty years old with three children and another on the way? He knew that there was every chance he would be leaving them fatherless. He opened his eyes and slipped his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket and lifted out the small, but official letter he had hidden. It was stamped by the Warwickshire Yeomanry and John knew it could only mean one thing. Looking down, he noticed Katie had fallen asleep against his legs. Being careful not to waken her, he gently ripped open the sealed envelope. His eyes glazed across the words on the sepia stained paper before he finally refolded the letter and put it back in his pocket. Now that it was real, he almost felt the bravado slipping away from him. Leaning over, he slipped his hands under his daughters legs and slowly pulled her up to him, her head resting easily against his chest. Quietly making his way through to the neighbouring bedroom, he placed her in her bed and pulled the covers over her, finally placing a swift peck on her forehead. John made his way across the hall until he reached his bedroom. Pushing open the door slowly, he smiled as he took in Martha's sleeping form on the bed, clearly exhausted by the activities of the younger children. _"I'll tell her tomorrow."_ He thought to himself, softly closing the door to allow her much needed rest.

A few streets over, a dark car pulled up on the cobbled road. Emily yawned as the days events began to take its toll. It had been a long journey from London, and one she was keen to see coming to an end. Allowing her mother to get out first, she pulled Henry, her youngest brother up into her arms. He had fallen asleep during the journey here from the train station, clearly exhausted by the long trip. He easily fell into her arms, and automatically wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Mary, in complete contrast, bounded out of the car, clearly over excited by the prospect of an adventure.

"Is this our new home?" she eyed up the building in front of her, disappointment evident on her face. It was slightly smaller than their home in London. The walls were a darker brick and caused the row of houses to look rather dismal. The lack of sunshine didn't help matters either.

"It is, darling." Helen answered. "Why don't you go and knock on the door? Aunt Isabel will be happy to see you."

Mary nodded excitedly and rushed towards the wooden door. Fixing her eyes on it, Emily could only imagine at one point, the door used to be blue. But the soot and smoke from the nearby factories had clearly caused havoc with the paint job. She watched intently as Mary pounded her small fist against the door, causing the sound to echo all around them. They stood for a few seconds, and when no one answered, she chapped again. Emily glanced over at her mother, who in turn, simply shrugged.

"She knew we were coming tonight. I can't imagine where she'd be."

Emily sighed and walked over to her. "Here, take Henry. I'll walk down the street and see if I can see anyone who might know her whereabouts."

"Emily, I really would prefer you didn't do that. You don't know this town." Helen protested.

Shrugging her shoulders, she passed her brother over. "Mother, I've walked the streets of London at night. I'm sure I can handle this." And with that, she turned and walked down the long street. Looking around, there was no one in sight, but she could hear voices sounding nearby. As she reached the end of the road, she looked to the left and then to the right. Squinting her eyes, she could make out a large building about two hundred yards away. There were bright lights shining from the windows and it seemed as though the noises were coming from that direction. Taking a few more steps, the building came more into focus, and she could now recognise it as a pub. As she neared the establishment, nervousness started to set in. Realising she was a young, unaccompanied woman, she was unsure how she would be greeted. As she reached the glass doors, the noise had gotten louder. Glancing around, there was still no one on the street she could ask so knowing what little alternative she had, she slowly pushed open the door, trying hard not to draw any unwanted attention. As she stepped inside, the noise continued but it had clearly lessened as the eyes of the punters around the room landed on her. She couldn't tell if their stares were at the fact she was female, or at the fact she had never been seen before. Both options caused her to shiver. Trying to ignore the clear attention she was gathering, and determined to show no fear, she walked slightly to the right, confidently making her way towards the long mahogany bar.

"I'm sorry, we don't serve…" The barman spoke as she approached.

"I'm not here for a drink." Emily stated, cutting him off. "I was hoping you, or one of these fine gentlemen could help me."

Harry Fenton smirked slightly as he polished off one of the glass tumblers before placing it under the bar. "Help wi' what?"

She was amused by his accent. All her life, she had only ever heard a cockney speak. This, was almost foreign to her. He almost spoke too quickly for her to pick up each word. "I'm looking for my Aunt Isabel Davis. She lives on Whitehall Road. Do you know her?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he continued cleaning another glass.

"I know her."

Emily turned to face the voice that had sounded behind her. A slightly ageing man stood from his table and made his way across to her.

"Charlie Strong." He offered out his hand. Emily eyed it carefully before finally accepting it, all aware that the eyes of the pub were still on her.

"Emily King." She answered. "Do you know where I could find her?"

"Its eight p.m." he stated, glancing up at the clock on the wall. "I expect she's at church. She usually helps clear things up at the end of the day."

"Where can I find the church?"

She stood for a few more seconds as Charlie gave her brief directions. Nodding as he spoke and now confident she understood the location, she thanked him and turned to make her way towards the door. Pulling it open, she stepped back out into the cold night and began the long walk along the path in the direction Charlie provided. Pulling her long red coat to her body, trying to keep the bitter cold air out, she took long strides along the cobbled streets. Taking the corner she had been instructed to, her elbow clipped the arm of a passing stranger.

"Beggin' your pardon, Sir." She looked up and briefly smiled at the man, just taking enough time to take in his high cheekbones and ice blue eyes. He was well dressed but yet fairly casual for the era, which surprised her. Growing up in the capital, she was used to men walking around in three piece suits and hats. Her smile reached her eyes as he turned briefly towards her, slowing his movements. Lifting his fingertips, he rested them at the edge of his hat and tipped it towards her, watching her walk quickly away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – When your duty comes a calling**

May 31 1915

The fields lay out in front of him as far as the eye could see. Everything around him was as green as the emerald isle itself and he took in a deep breath as the warm air surrounded him. Sitting atop his silver grey gelding, he tugged on the reins gently, slowing the horse to a stop. Reaching down, Thomas patted the horses neck softly, feeling the soft fur against his calloused fingertips. He'd taken to riding most mornings over the last few weeks, knowing there was a good chance he wouldn't get much opportunity, if any, in the not too distant future. His stomach twisted at the very thought of leaving his family behind. John had already gone, having made the trip to London the week previous. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would likely be stationed overseas. Martha took it particularly hard, hysterically crying on the platform of the train station as John boarded. The children had waved their goodbyes to him, blissfully unaware of the impending danger their father was facing. John had kissed his newborn baby on the head, his eyes filling up as he did so. Martha had given birth at home a month previous and John had spent as much time as possible with young William, desperate to cling on to as much as he could before finally having to accept his fate when the time came. Since he had left, Arthur had also received his draft notice and was due to leave for France at the end of June. Despite not having the same commitments at home as his younger brother, Arthur still found it difficult imagining leaving his family and Thomas knew he would miss Finn in particular. He was only a young boy, and he idolised his older brothers, desperate to dress similarly to them, act in a certain way, and was desperate to be seen as 'one of the boys.'

Thomas gazed over the vast countryside in front of him. Despite being able to see Birmingham vividly from his current position, he felt a million miles away. The air was cleaner up here and he felt as though it opened up his lungs as he took in deep breaths. His horse shook his head impatiently underneath him and Thomas recognised he was getting restless.

"Good boy." Thomas rubbed his neck again and quickly dismounted. Stepping in front of the horse, he pressed his forehead against the horses face. He had a blaze facial marking down the full length of his face, pure white like snow. Thomas rubbed his cheek gently, whispering romany in his ears. He was gypsy on both sides of his family and he took the traveller link seriously, securing stronger relationships with Johnny Dogs and the Lee family. However, he couldn't deny that at some times, those relationships were strained at times. Grasping the reins, Thomas turned the horse and began to walk back in the direction of Small Heath. Whilst he was away from the trials and tribulations of life in Small Heath, he could take time to think things through. Since the outbreak of the war, new faces had appeared in the area and he couldn't help but feel overly cautious about it. He wasn't keen on change and disliked seeing people he didn't recognise. However, one had caught his eye. The young woman who had run into him one evening had certainly garnered attention and he remembered his Uncle Charlie talking about her the next day.

"She's staying with Isabel Davis." He had told him. "She's her Aunt. I can't remember her name though"

Thomas knew Mrs Davis from his church going youth but hadn't seen her for some time. He had become slightly disillusioned with God since the outbreak of war, finding it hard to believe in a being which would allow so much pain and destruction to take place. Since she had arrived, fighting across the world had increased with the recent involvement of Italy and Thomas was struggling to see any light at the end of the tunnel. He knew it was just a waiting game before the letter finally came for him.

June 28 1915

The train station platform was abnormally busy and Thomas followed dutifully behind his family as they made their way towards the steam train which had pulled into Birmingham New Street Station. Arthur walked out in front of them, clad in his khaki coloured uniform. On a normal day, he would have stood out like a sore thumb, however today, the platform was crammed when men wearing similar attire. Stopping a few steps from the train, Arthur stared hard at it, somehow unable to face his family. Pushing slowly past them, Thomas reached his brother, placing his hand on top of his shoulder and giving it a brief squeeze. He felt Arthur tense at his touch, to which, he leaned forward, whispering a few words in romany. He visibly relaxed and turned to face his younger brother.

"How did our John do this eh?" Arthur wondered aloud. "And wit' a young family. How did he manage it Tom?"

Thomas tilted his head slightly, his eyes burning into his brothers. "He got on that train the same way you will, brother."

"He'll be at the front by now, Tom. How is he doin' this? You've heard about it all eh? Its not just guns they're using. Its gas and cannons. Have you heard what that gas does? But, it don't kill you straight away. You could be livin' with it for weeks!" Arthur's shoulders were almost up around his ears and his lips were pursed tightly together. Thomas reached forward and placed both hands on Arthur's biceps.

"Arthur." Thomas narrowed his eyes and gently shook his brother. "Hey. Listen to me. Look around you. You're one of the oldest here. You need to be there for these boys. They're leaving their families behind as well but, they haven't got the life experience you do. They're going to be lost. And you need to help them through it. You're doin' this for your country. Otherwise, we're all condemned to live a completely different life. We'll no longer be English. We have to win this, and you know it. Now, you're gonna say your goodbye's, you're gonna get on that train and you're gonna do us proud."

Vigorously nodding his head, Arthur lifted his hand, taking his brothers fiercely. They shook each others, a silent promise passing between them. No one else around them would be any wiser at knowing what was going on, but as Polly looked on, she could understand the moment her two nephews were having. John had already gone, and now Arthur was following. She knew it wouldn't be long before Thomas joined them and although she was expecting it, she wasn't anywhere near prepared for it. The brothers separated and Thomas stepped to one side, allowing his brother time to speak with the rest of the family. He looked up and down the platform, watching intently as other families were going through the same emotions. There was hardly a dry eye to be seen and he suddenly felt awkward, as though he was intruding on these private moments. Allowing his eyes to drop to the floor, he kept his line of sight on his shoes, which were tapping impatiently on the concrete floor.

"Tom."

Arthur's gruff voice broke into his thoughts once more and Thomas raised his head until they were eye to eye. Stepping forward, Arthur held out his hand once more, pulling his brother to him and throwing his arms around his shoulders. Not one for usually showing much affection, Thomas was taken by surprise, but yet, allowed himself to be enveloped in the hug. Without looking at him again, Arthur released him and lifted his large rucksack back up from the floor where he had previously discarded it. He stepped back and made his way towards the awaiting door. The whistles sounded around him, echoing throughout the station and this action seemed to cause mass hysteria. Crying grew louder and people rushed to hug their loved ones one more time. Arthur stepped up into the train and made his way into the first carriage he came to. He threw his bag onto a seat which faced the nearby platform and took a seat beside it. The train suddenly began to come to life and Arthur finally allowed himself to look to his side. His family were huddled together, watching him intently. Nodding his head, he gave them a brief wave before looking back down at his fidgeting hands. He didn't look back up, even as the train pulled out of the station.

September 18 1915

She sat under a large oak tree, somewhat thankful for the shade it provided. Considering it was mid September, the weather was unseasonably warm. Leaning against the wide, sturdy trunk, Emily's eyes fell down to her heeled black shoes. Her stockings were slightly visible and she could feel the heat burning down on her and she cursed her mothers insistence to wear such heavy clothing. Looking quickly around, and satisfied no one was around, she reached down to the hem of her dress and pulled it up above her knees, allowing the slight breeze to drift around her legs, offering her some reprieve from the heat. She leaned back again and closed her eyes, enjoying the silence, something she certainly wasn't used to, living with another four people.

"Ahem."

Emily's eyes flew open at the interruption, her eyes darting around her. Unable to see anyone, she was about to rest her head back against the trunk when the voice sounded once more.

"Not interrupting am I?"

Again, she looked around and finally sensed movement to her left. Looking around, she could only just make out the silhouette of a man standing a few feet away from her. It was difficult to make him out as the sun shone directly behind him, masking his features. Taking a step forward, he was finally fully in her vantage point and she recognised him as the man she had bumped into the first night she arrived in Small Heath.

"No, not at all." Emily finally found her voice. She gazed up at the man, reminding herself of his traits. His blue eyes seemed brighter today than she remembered. He was slightly less clean shaven and a five o clock shadow had started to appear around his chin and cheeks. He was fairly casually dressed, wearing a pair of grey trousers and a light blue pinstriped shirt which he had slightly unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He wore brown lace up boots and a newsboy style cap. He looked down at her before finally allowing his eyes to drift down to her exposed legs, raising his eyebrows slightly. Understanding his look, Emily gasped before pushing the hem of her dress back down to her ankles, her eyes staying down in embarrassment.. "I'm sorry. It's just so warm today. I didn't think anyone was around."

"I'm not complaining." He smirked, cheekily. "Do you mind if I join you? Or do you want some privacy?"

Emily lifted her gaze back up to him, trying to work out how she felt about it.

"I don't bite." He teased.

She smiled shyly, indicating for him to sit. Tugging his trouser legs up slightly, he dropped down beside her, keeping a suitable distance away. "What brings you here?"

Emily shrugged. "Just needed some peace and quiet."

"And now I've appeared and disturbed you." He glanced over at her. He could tell she was nervous and to be honest, he felt it as well. It had been a while since he had spent any real time with a woman and he assumed he would be out of practice.

"I don't mind. You're not as noisy as my younger brother and sister."

Tommy nodded, but said nothing. They sat in silence for another few minutes.

"Why are you here?" Emily asked him, breaking the peace.

"I needed to get away. Both of my brothers have gone to war in the last few months. I received letters from them last week. They're at the front. It's a tough read. And I don't doubt I'll be joining them very soon. I just wanted to enjoy what little quiet I still have left before artillery shells are the only noise I hear." He admitted, rather more truthfully than she was expecting.

"That must be difficult. I want to do more. I was a nurse before I came here."

"Where did you come from?" He asked.

"London." She explained. "I worked in Hammersmith hospital. I loved it there. And then my mother sprung this on me that we were moving to Birmingham to stay safe. She didn't give me much choice. I could have left home, stayed in London. But I couldn't imagine being so far away from my siblings."

"I understand that. I have a younger brother. He's only seven, and the thought of leaving him is killing me."

She listened intently as he recounted his feelings at his brothers being sent to war. He admitted the guilt he felt at being the only one who was still to go, and Emily could feel the anger that was built up inside him at having to face such a conflict. He told her how he'd had high hopes for starting his own business. A family run business. Something where he could keep horses, clearly a beloved past time of his. He also told her of his pain and sorrow at having to deal with the loss of Greta, something he didn't mind admitting he struggled to do with his own family. But yet, opening up to a complete stranger felt easier. She had no preconceived ideas about him. No judgement was passed, and he felt as though he could be completely honest with her. After a while, the air started to grow cooler, symbolising the end to the afternoon.

"I probably should be getting back." She admitted, almost painfully. If she was honest with herself, she knew she didn't want to go, yet, she got to her feet and straightened out her dress.

"Would you like me to walk you back?" He asked, looking up at her.

She shook her head softly, allowing her dark hair to rustle around her shoulders. "No, that's alright. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Goodbye then."

He watched her as she turned on her heel and began the walk down the hill they had been sitting on, carefully following the narrow makeshift path.

"Goodbye." He whispered, inaudibly.

She briefly turned her head to catch one last look at him before he became just a blurry figure in the distance, and it was only then, she realised she didn't even know his name.

October 4 1915

The room was ridiculously humid and Emily could feel the beads of sweat form on her forehead. Using the sleeve of her dress, she wiped it away and looked back down to the task in hand. As the numbers of soldiers being sent to the front was dramatically increasing every month, so was the number of letters being sent back and forth and the Post Offices were severely understaffed to deal with them. Not only that, censorship ensured that every single letter had to be scrutinised, not just to ensure that no information could be leaked to the enemy, but also to guarantee morale stayed high. Any letters heading to France which contained bad news had to be confiscated. Going on the advice of her mother, Emily volunteered to help at Birmingham's main post office, sorting through the mail before it headed to the main depot in Regent's Park before finally travelling across the Channel to France. Although it wasn't nursing, she got on well with the people she worked with and there was something so voyeuristic about reading other people's private letters. But sometimes, her heart broke at the content of them. Some from mothers writing to their sons and lovers separated by war. It was heart wrenching. It had been over a year since the war had started and it hadn't gotten any easier. The sounds coming from the press, the Commons and the letters she was reading made it clear to her that the conflict wasn't getting any easier. She struggled with the facts and tried to tell herself it wouldn't be long until it was all over, yet, that didn't seem to be the case. Not only dealing with this, she couldn't help but think of the mystery man from Small Heath. She had seen him around a few times since their heart to heart a few weeke back, but she still had no idea who he was. Only seeing him in passing, she had never plucked up the courage to approach him, and he never seemed to notice her. Not wanting to ask too many questions and draw attention to herself, she hadn't asked anyone about him. Also, having felt suffocated living with her aunt, Emily had finally managed to secure some lodgings nearby, allowing her to still stay close to her brother and sister, but far enough away that she could enjoy some peace and tranquillity.

"Emily!"

Emily turned her head briefly, her thoughts interrupted by the yell of her name. Her supervisor appeared beside her. "There is a lot of mail come through in the last couple of days that we need to sort through. Would you mind staying later?"

"Not at all." She answered, almost immediately. Truth was, despite enjoying having her own space, spending the evenings there sometimes felt incredibly lonely. At least here, she had some company. "Happy to."

The woman nodded in acceptance, turned and left Emily to continue her work.

November 21 1915

It took longer than expected, but as he twisted the letter through his calloused fingertips, it wasn't unexpected either. Having finally received his draft notice, Tommy was now sitting on his Aunt Polly's couch, dressed in his military uniform, with his rucksack placed firmly at his feet. His boots were laced up tightly and shined to perfection.

"Ready?" Polly's voice broke into his thoughts.

Looking up, he nodded. She was surrounded by his remaining family, Ada and Finn. The numbers of the Shelby clan had dwindled significantly over the last few months and Tommy was feel lonelier with each passing day. "As I'll ever be."

He got to his feet and lifted the rucksack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. Making their way outside, Polly held back, choosing to walk behind her nephew, trying to mask the tears that were threatening to fall. Now that he was leaving, she felt completely alone. It would be up to her to keep things running at home. Thomas had made a start in setting up the family business. He had been looking more and more into horse racing and had recently bought a new horse and now it would be left to Polly to deal with. He had been considering a move into racing and betting, something which was still relatively frowned upon, but it had the makings of a major success and Thomas felt relatively guilty at having to leave it all behind, but he knew where he needed to be.


	4. Over By Christmas?

**Chapter 4 – It's a long journey East**

November 25 1915

It had been a long few days and Tommy rubbed his eyes as he boarded his final train. Having been on four separate trains by now, he was growing increasingly impatient. He was finally on French soil, passing through the port of Boulogne-Sur-Mer, and he was moving closer to the front. Somehow, even if he had no idea where he was, his surroundings would provide him the answer. Moving out into countryside, the fields weren't as green as he expected them to be, the faces of those they passed as their train pulled out of station after station grew wearier, more terrified, and Tommy was empathetic to their pain.

"You alright Tom?"

Looking up, Tommy eyes fell upon Freddie Thorne, his childhood friend, who had also been stationed with him. He couldn't lie, he was grateful to have the company but he wasn't sure if having a friend with him would make the situation easier or worse. What if something happened to one of them? Would he be able to potentially watch his friend die? Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he nodded briefly. Reaching into his rucksack, he pulled out the small notebook and pen that Polly had given him, making him promise he would write to her regularly, just as she had done with John and Arthur. Leaning over the small table, he began to write, thinking he could make a start and pass the time, before they arrived. Freddie watched him as his friend methodically started writing.

"Who you writing to?"

"Pol and Ada." Tommy answered without looking up. "Figure I'll have this written by the time we stop and I can get it posted."

December 19 1915

Polly sat in the large armchair holding a cigarette in one hand and a large tumbler filled almost to the brim with whisky. She was slumped back in the chair with one leg crossed over the other, taking a brief sip of the drink. A small letter sat in her lap, unopened.

"Hi Pol."

She looked up and smiled briefly as Ada stepped into the room, making her way over to the opposite couch. She glanced over her aunt, taken aback by her appearance. Her skin was lank and underneath her eyes were almost black due to lack of sleep.

"Are you alright?" Ada asked, her eyes narrowing. "You don't look well."

Polly took another drag of her cigarette, holding it within her lips, she lifted the letter and held it out to her niece. Reading through it, Ada recognised Tommy's handwriting straight away. She took in his words about the conditions he was living in, and although he hadn't been near any fighting yet, he was doing what he could to help those who came back from the front with injuries.

"Are you going to write back? He says he should be there for the foreseeable."

Polly nodded. "I'll do it shortly. It's the thought of getting through Christmas Day. Last year, everyone was here, everyone was in high spirits. Well, apart from Thomas."

"He had only recently lost Greta." Ada reminded her.

"Yes, and now, we could lose him."

"We're not going to lose him, Pol. Tommy is as strong as an ox. You know the three of them will be back. It's just a waiting game."

March 28 1916

The sounds of the artillery fire, despite being some miles away, sounded as though they were firing right next door. Thomas pressed his face deep into his pillow trying desperately to limit the loud bangs. It was well after midnight, but the noises didn't let up. Sighing, he turned so he was now lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling only a few feet away from him. The soft snores from his bunkmate below provided little relief. It irritated him that others could manage to ignore the sounds and yet, he couldn't force them from his mind. At times like these, he couldn't help but wish the night away, praying for morning to come, just so he could get up and find something else to do to keep his mind occupied. Being based at Etaples, one of the largest British Military bases, was not without its faults and issues. It was busy and kept him occupied, but one of the most difficult parts for him was the fact he was only a few miles from the English coast. On a clear day, Thomas could see the cliffs of Dover far off in the distance, and being so close, yet being unable to return home was one of the more difficult aspects of army life. As the war had progressed, the area had quickly been transformed to include a military hospital, treating wounded soldiers before they recovered or made the journey back home. He knew it was a stop over for soldiers before they were sent to the front.

He had been exchanging letters back and forth with Polly for the last few months and he had tried not to divulge too much information which would worry her. The last letter he had sent to her had been some time ago and he was yet to hear back from her, slightly concerned that several weeks had gone by.

April 3 1916

Night had quickly appeared and the numbers of Emily's colleagues had slowly dwindled. Yet again, she had been asked to work on later, having a large sack of mail plumped down on her table. She sighed as she began loosening the strings to open up the bag, allowing piles of the letters to pour out in front of her. Lifting up the first few letters, she began to flick through them, reading the contents of each. They were much the same as she had been reading for weeks now and she was sad to say that she was somewhat becoming immune to it all. As she lifted each letter in turn, one in particular caught her eye. It had no envelope and was just a single paged letter. Lifting it up, she turned it over to examine both sides, hoping to find an address. The hand writing was neat and as she read over it, taking in the senders words, she could understand that they were writing to a family member. It was also clear that he wasn't the only one in his family that was at war. Pulling the sack towards her, Emily started pulling out large piles of letters, trying desperately to find an open envelope that would match the letter. Looking around, she was aware that she was alone, so lifting the bottom of the sack, she tipped the full contents over the table, being careful not to let any of the letters fall onto the floor. Picking up each letter individually, she looked through them until she finally got through them all. Having placed them all back in the bag, she sank back onto her stool, somewhat deflated at being unable to fit the corresponding envelope. Emily lifted the letter back up and started reading it more thoroughly. As she reached the end, she noted it had been signed off by the name 'Thomas' and his regiment details were noted underneath. Getting to her feet, Emily took a few paces before she reached the storage cupboard. Pushing open the door, she lifted a few sheets of blank paper, an envelope and a pen. She made her way back to her desk and took a seat, placing the paper in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she began writing.

May 13 1916

 _Dear Thomas,_

 _I know you may find this strange, but please hear me out._

 _My name is Emily and I work within the Birmingham mail sorting office. Today (April 3rd), I came across your letter which unfortunately seemed to have come apart from its envelope, after being routed through London. As a result, I was unable to forward it on. I have kept it safe, so if you are able to send me on the details of the recipient, I will ensure it finds its way to them._

 _I have to be honest with you that I did read your letter. Although, I do have to do this with all letters, but I found yours particularly emotional and I just wanted to ensure that it reached your family. Its clear to me that you are all going through a very trying time at the moment. I don't have much room for comparison as no one in my immediate family have been directly affected. My father died a few years ago and my siblings are too young to fully understand what is happening._

 _I hope this letter finds you safe and well. You speak of having difficulty sleeping at night, and I do hope this has somewhat subsided._

 _I hope you do not think it rude of me to contact you this way._

 _Kind Regards,_

 _Emily_

Tommy had read the letter over and over again and couldn't help but feel slightly amused and impressed by the senders tenacity. He could only imagine the envelope had gotten lost after being routed to Birmingham, otherwise it would never have gotten there. What was more surprising to him was glancing over her address which she had written on the back of the envelope and at the foot of her letter. He recognised the street as one based in a small town about ten minutes from Small Heath. Reading over her words, he was surprised by the empathy she had shown to a complete stranger and without really thinking about it, Tommy found himself pulling out his notepad and responding to her.

June 1 1916

Emily arrived home after another long day. She felt physically exhausted after having spent fourteen hours at the sorting office and then minding her siblings until her mother arrived home. Finally stepping foot into the quietness of her own flat was like nirvana. Pressing her back up against the now closed door, she allowed her eyelids to relax and she took a deep breath. Taking a step, she started to walk down the hallway when a crumpling noise stopped her. Looking down, her eyes fell upon the yellow stained letter sticking out from under her heeled boot. Reaching down, she picked the letter up and glanced over the hand writing. Her breath suddenly caught in her throat as she recognised it. Rushing through to the living room, she poured herself a drink and took a seat in her large red armchair. Kicking off her boots, she tucked her feet under her legs, allowing her skirt to drape over them. Pausing for a second, she examined the writing again, somewhat surprised that he had even bothered to respond. But then, remembering she had asked for the forwarding address for the previous letter, Emily convinced herself that was all that would be included. Picking her letter opener up from the table beside her, she slipped it across the top of the envelope, bursting it open. Unfolding the piece of paper, she began to read.

 _Dear Emily,_

 _I wish to thank you for ensuring my letter did not go astray. It is not often that one finds another person willing to go out of their way for someone else. Can you please forward it on to my Aunt Polly. Her address is written on the back of this letter. I know she must be worried at the fact she will not have heard from me for some time so I'm sure that letter will give her some comfort. As you p icked up from my letter, my two brothers are also stationed in France. They left some time before me. I have managed to exchange some letters with them but not as much as I would like. I will be honest, it is pleasant to hear from someone else. Someone not directly connected to my family. Surprisingly, looking at your address, you do not seem to live too far away from them. As you will see from Polly's address, we all live in Small Heath. I do hope to get back there soon. I don't think any of us were expecting to be here for so long. It has almost been six months that I have been stationed here, and yet, I do not feel as if I had a home anywhere else. Sadly, it feels as though this has always been my home. As of yet, I have not been sent to the Front, something I am grateful for, however being here when our men come back injured it just as difficult to deal with._

 _Tell me more about what is going on at home. Polly doesn't tell me much. I think she is concerned I will find it too difficult to read._

 _Thank you for sending your regards about my sleeping pattern. Unfortunately, it hasn't been any better. It is still difficult to find any sleep here, but I live in hope._

 _I hope to hear from you again._

 _Thomas._

Folding the letter up, Emily held it to her heart. He seemed so lost where he was. Looking at the address of his Aunt, she knew she couldn't break her promise and would arrange to get his original letter to her. But also, she hoped they could continue conversing. If her letters made him feel any better about where he was, then who was she to prevent that.

June 19 1916

"Shelby. Thomas Shelby. Letso. William Letso"

The sound of someone yelling pulled Thomas rudely from his slumber.

"Whaaa…." He murmured, lifting his head from the pillow and rubbing his eyes. He could sense the room was still relatively dark indicting that dawn hadn't yet broken.

"Shelby! Letso!"

Finally recognising the voice as his sergeant, Thomas quickly climbed down the steps of his bunkbed, missing the last three as he jumped to the floor, his heels clicking together and his right hand flying up to the side of his face. "Yes, Sir." He saluted, recognising his colleague standing across from him.

"Both of you need to go to the Colonel's office immediately."

Nodding and saying nothing else, They quickly pushed their boots on and made their way along the long corridor. Glancing at each other, Thomas shrugged as he knocked on the door. He felt tense, he couldn't help it. He knew this was bad news. He had been building his way through the ranks, but he knew that to get any further, he would need to be involved directly in the conflict. Having been to Verdun to support the Allies, it was the closest he had gotten to any fighting.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, both men marched into the room and saluted, not making direct eye contact with their superior.

"Get your things ready gents. You're going to the front."

June 20 1916

 _"Dear Thomas,_

 _I wanted to assure you I had forwarded on your letter to your Aunt Polly. I hope she has managed to contact you by now._

 _Its funny how when travelling, you tend to not think of home. You enjoy the time you have away, and don't give it a second thought. Yet, I can only imagine that you long for the days of being home. Being truthful, you aren't missing out on too much. You're right, I am only a short distance from Small Heath. I was in the town yesterday visiting family. I wonder if I passed your Aunt Polly. Wouldn't that be funny?_

 _I have been trying to pass the days here by taking on some additional duties but unfortunately, life is not at its most exciting in a mail sorting office. I long to do more. To help with the cause. I used to work as a nurse when I lived in London and I miss it terribly. I sometimes think back to the people I left behind in the hospital and wonder what ever became of them. I remember one patient in particular, Mrs Brown. She was living with consumption and had been in the hospital for some time. I sometimes wonder if she is still with us._

 _I hope everything is going as well as it can for you and you have managed to sleep. I hope to hear from you again._

 _Emily"_

As she sealed the envelope and placed a stamp on it, she thought long and hard before she would post it. It seemed strange to her to even consider writing back to him. She had argued with herself since receiving his last correspondence a week previous. She had done what she set out to do and sent on his letter. Why did she still feel the need to contact him? She thought back to the message he had sent to her and remembered him asking her to write back. Who would she be to deny him that?

Leaving the letter by her door, she made her way through to her bedroom and climbed into bed. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine what Thomas looked like. Was he tall or short? Did he have dark hair or blond? Was he handsome? Shaking her head to herself, she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and forced herself to fall asleep.

June 28 1916

The ground was made of chalk soil and came away easily when tunnelling down. Tunnels had been being dug under No Mans Land for some time and Thomas and William joined the group to continue digging, with the aim of planting mines under the German front lines. A large number had already been planted and the aim was to blow them all on July 1st. Listening intently to the ground surrounding him, Thomas lifted his hand, signalling for the others to quieten down. They did so immediately until he nodded his head briefly and they resumed. They had been under ground for hours and the lack of fresh air was making him light headed, but he continued. It was imperative the mines were planted in plenty of time and he wasn't about to let his battalion down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – Living in No Mans Land**

August 15 1916

He couldn't handle it. He wasn't cut out for this. As he leaned against the trench wall, his body shook as the sound of more heavy fire rang through his ears. Thankfully the rain had kept off for a number of days, allowing the mud of the trench to harden making walking slightly easier. His mouth fell open slightly as glanced down the length of the trench, watching helplessly as his fellow soldiers climbed over the top and into No Mans Land. His life here over the last couple of weeks had been one of the worst experiences of his life. Despite it being summer, they were forced to spend a lot of the nights outside with very limited shelter and on the nights the rain did appear, it was unbearably cold. The landscape around him had diminished significantly with the impact of artillery. The time now was busy. Men had been ordered to attack continuously for the last few days and Thomas couldn't help but long for a day of quiet. Despite being in the middle of a war zone, those days did happen. But there was no rest, only hard work. Thomas' stomach rumbled heavily beneath his uniform. It had been two days since he had last eaten and there was no sign yet of any food arriving and he wasn't sure how much longer he could cope.

October 12 1916

The smog filled streets of London quickly greeted her again and Emily couldn't help but feel like she was finally at home. She had finally taken the decision to catch the train back to the capital, much to her mothers disappointment. No matter how much she had tried to settle, she had never quite felt at home in Birmingham. The families who lived nearby didn't make much effort to get to know her and there was only so much she could take of working within the sorting office. Although, she had to admit, she couldn't complain too much about working there. By doing so had given her the opportunity to exchange secret letters with the mystery man from the Western Front. She still knew nothing of him, other than what he had divulged in his letters. She had posted his original letter back to his Aunt but had chosen not to ask any questions. Having not spent any time with any of the locals of Small Heath, she had never had the chance to find out anything about him or his family. Part of her longed for the excitement and she found her heart racing whenever her eyes fell upon a letter at her front door. His distinctive handwriting was easy to spot and she found that the contact she had with him was what was keeping her going. As she sat back in the uncomfortable train seat, Emily reached into her bag and pulled out Thomas' most recent letter. Turning the envelope over, she gently rubbed her fingertip over his name which was written on the back. _Thomas Shelby._ It was a strong name. One you wouldn't forget in a hurry. She held it close to her, promising herself that she would write to him again as soon as she arrived. She'd chosen to wait so that she could provide him with her new address as the last thing she wanted was to potentially lose touch with him. Closing her eyes, Emily wondered if she would ever get the chance to meet him. She prayed for his safe return every single night and found herself dreaming of him, even though she had no idea what he looked like. Some days, she could have kicked herself for not personally handing his letter to his Aunt Polly. Perhaps she could have shown her a picture so she could put a face to the beautiful handwriting. Yet, she couldn't deny she enjoyed the mystery.

November 3 1916

 _"_ _Dearest Thomas,_

 _Do you realise we have now been communicating for six months? I thought that warranted a celebration, so I have raised a small glass of brandy to you. I apologise for the delay in replying to your last letter, however, I have made some changes in my life. Despite my earlier concerns, I have taken the decision to move back to London. Having spent over a year in Birmingham, I have never truly found peace there and my calling continues to be within nursing. Thankfully, my previous employers have agreed to take me back and I start work again on Monday._

 _I hope this letter finds you well and you are as safe as you can be. Having read many letters from the front, I can only imagine your experiences. I hope you have managed to speak with your brothers and they too, are safe._

 _Please find my new address at the top of this letter._

 _I hope to continue to hear from you._

 _Sending all my love and prayers,_

 _Emily"_

Thomas closed over the letter for what seemed like the thousandth time. Six months of communicating with Emily meant that it was almost a year since he had left Birmingham. A year of listening to heavy gunfire, avoiding mines, spending days and weeks at a time underground and having to face the prospect of losing his fellow soldiers on a daily basis. Sadly, he felt as though he was becoming immune to the whole process. Seeing one more dead body was no longer affecting him in the same way that it had.

"Thomas?"

He looked briefly to his side and nodded as his eyes fell upon Freddie Thorne.

"Are you ready to go back?"

He smirked. "Am I ever truly ready?" Yet, Thomas pushed his back from the trench wall, took one long look at the sunlight which beamed down upon them, not knowing if he would ever feel the warmth from the sun again. Pushing the thought from his mind, he made his way back towards the hole they had been meticulously digging for the last few weeks and disappeared inside.

November 17 1916

She couldn't deny it. She felt right at home again back in Hammersmith Hospital. It was almost as though she had never left, although all of the patients she had looked after before had either been discharged, or sadly, had never made it. Her thoughts had immediately gone to Mrs Brown. The older woman who she had taken care of previously and she found herself wondering what the womans fate had been. Many of the doctors and nurses who she had worked with previously had also disappeared and Emily had been told by a young colleague that many of them had been sent to help the war effort abroad. As she continued her rounds, changing dressings and speaking with her patients, she stopped suddenly as commotion came from the corridor. Excusing herself, she made her way to the doorway and glanced outside. Her eyes immediately fell upon the distinctive uniform being worn by several women in front of her. There were also uniformed soldiers accompanying them.

"What's going on?" Emily whispered to her young colleague, Mary, who had appeared beside her.

"The War Office." Elizabeth responded. "They're here with the Red Cross. I think they're looking for volunteers."

"Volunteers for what?"

Elizabeth turned her eyes away from the crowd that had gathered in front of them. "I think they're sounding out how many more nurses and doctors would be willing to move to Military Hospitals."

Emily nodded and turned her attention back to the uniformed men and women. Perhaps this is her calling. This is what she was destined to do. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards them, trying to listen in on the conversation.

"….It is likely we will be needing people for air raid duty in London, but Mr Asquith has also mentioned the need for further support in France and Russia."

"Excuse me, Sir." Emily spoke quickly before she could change her mind. "I'd like to help."

December 11 1916

News had finally reached Thomas and his battalion at the news of Asquith's resignation and the introduction of Lloyd George as the new British Prime Minister and rumours were quickly swirling around about what their fate would be. He was well aware that conscription had been introduced across the UK but even that hadn't been enough to save Asquith. Thomas looked around him. The men he was surrounded by were worn out and exhausted. Bloodied and in agony. But as he looked upon their faces, he recognised that he was probably one of the oldest there. Many of them had to be younger than John and it killed him to think of these young boys being dragged away from their families and forced to fight for a war that they really had nothing to do with.

Machine gun fire rang out, breaking him from his reverie. Another squad of his comrades had gone over the top and Thomas couldn't help the sickness feeling which built up inside him. Around twenty men had ventured out into No Mans Land, and he knew it was highly unlikely that all of them would come back. Screams sounded behind him and Thomas quickly turned on his feet, only to be greeted by three men throwing themselves down into the trench. Jumping straight into action, his eyes flew around the mens bodies.

"Are you injured?"

"No." the first man gasped. "But Collins. He's still up there. He was shot. But he's alive. He wouldn't let us bring him back."

Thomas' eyes lifted to the top of the trench. The unknown was screaming at him and everything within his heart was telling him not to do it. Pushing the thoughts away, he grabbed his gun and mental helmet.

"Freddie." He shouted down the trench to his friend. "Keep on eye on these three."

"Tommy, what are you doing?" Freddie's eyes widened as he watched Thomas climb up the wall of the trench.

"I have to go and get him Freddie. Just check them over." He insisted as he finally reached the top. His eyes darted around the wasteland which lay out in front of him. It had been a while since he had to climb out of the trench, having spent more time underground below enemy lines. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight he would see. Mens bodies lay strewn across the ground in front of him and the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh and blood assaulted his nostrils. Looking around for any sign of life, his eyes finally rested on the sight of a young boy desperately trying to crawl across the ground. Recognising him as the boy they had been talking about, Tommy knew he had limited scope to get him to safety. Pushing himself up from the trench wall, he pulled himself onto his front and started shifting along the ground. Gunfire continued to ring around him and he tried his best to ignore the bullets as they sped past his body. The ground suddenly quaked underneath him as a shell exploded a couple of hundred yards away. Undeterred, Thomas continued to crawl across the ground until he finally reached the boy. As Thomas grasped his arm, he automatically struggled in his grip.

"No! please don't hurt me!" He cried.

Thomas' heart broke again in that split second. He was a kid, nothing more, and yet he was lying here, fighting for his life.

"Hey! Collins, its alright. I'm Thomas Shelby." Tommy reassured him, his accent thick and distinctive, automatically settling him. "Come on, lets get you out of here."

Collins allowed Tommy to pull him gently, shuffling his body and trying to fight through the pain which tore through him. He knew he had lost blood, but how much exactly, he wasn't sure. He could finally see the end in sight. As they reached the edge of the trench, Thomas shouted down to Freddie, indicating their arrival. Forcing the boy down into his colleagues waiting arms, Thomas quickly descended after him, falling down against the trench wall. His breathing was laboured and his eyes were wide with fear. He had only been gone for a short time, but the thought of his life ending during that time terrified him. But more so, the image of that young boy, lying out there, alone and scared had spurred him on.

"Thomas?" Freddie's voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Lifting his head and staring up at his friends from under his helmet, Thomas could only nod. His thoughts had immediately gone to his mysterious pen pal. He found that feeling odd and slightly unsettling that she was the first thing on his mind at that particular time. Not his family, nor his Aunt, nor Greta. But a stranger who he may never meet.

"Shelby! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Looking along the trench, Tommy sighed at the sight of his Sergeant appearing beside them.

"Sir, I…"

Unable to complete the sentence, the young Collins spoke up. "He saved me Sir."

Glancing around the six men, he glared down at Thomas before finally speaking. "Get these men to the infirmary. Now."

Thomas watched as he stalked away, turning back to Freddie.

"How's that for gratitude for you?" Freddie smirked.

January 5 1917

Emily lifted her arms up into a stretch as she finally arrived back at her small bedsit. Having decided she would be spending less time at home, she had chosen small lodgings so she wouldn't need to spend too much of her wages on rent. It had been a long day and many men were starting to arrive back at the hospital from the front. The injuries she had seen so far had been horrific and she could only begin to imagine how the men were coping out there. Her thoughts automatically went to Tommy and she prayed he was still safe. Thinking about him, she automatically looked to her feet as she opened her front door. Her heart lifted at the sight of a small envelope lying on the floor. Bending down, she lifted it up with her gloved hand and began pulling her coat off with her free hand. Making her way inside, she sat down on a nearby chair and kicked off her shoes. Opening up the envelope, she smiled as her eyes rested on the now familiar handwriting.

 _"_ _Dearest Emily,_

 _I will assume that this letter will likely reach you once the holiday festivities have passed so I will take this time to wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I hope you had an enjoyable time and you managed to spend some time with family, although I don't know how easy that would be for you if you are now back in London._

 _I am glad to hear you are back doing what you love and I'm sure you will garner a great deal of satisfaction doing it. We really need more nurses and doctors here. Its not easy to get treatment when so many others desperately need it._

 _This will be my second Christmas away from my family and I'll admit, I'm starting to struggle. I miss the comforts of home and the mild irritations of them all rushing around my feet. Yet, despite missing them so, I find myself confused. That I'm writing to a complete stranger rather than them. I look forward to your letters and find they give me some solace in times of sadness._

 _I sometimes think what it would be like if we were to meet. I wonder if we will ever get the chance._

 _I hope to hear from you soon._

 _Tommy"_

As she finished the letter, she held it up to her lips. She noticed the slight change in his tone throughout the message and as she read over his name at the bottom, she smiled at the nickname he had signed. It was the first time he hadn't signed a letter 'Thomas' and she couldn't help but feel as though they were growing closer. Yet, hundreds of miles kept them apart. And truthfully, they really didn't know that much about each other. She had no idea where he had lived exactly, and other than his Aunt Polly, she didn't know anything else about his family. Emily read over his final statement and thought about what he said. What would it be like if they were to meet? What if they had nothing in common? Or he didn't find her attractive? Or they took an instant dislike to each other? Shaking her head, she forced herself to get to her feet and pushed the thought from her mind. _Impossible._ They had a connection. Albeit, she was someone purely keeping him occupied during an extremely difficult period of his life. She knew it wasn't likely they would ever get a chance to meet, even if he did make it out of France alive. He would likely go back to his family, meet someone else and live out his life without ever giving her a second thought. Taking a deep breath, she wandered over to the small table nearby and began writing her response.

February 16 1917

She sat on the train quietly. Those sitting around her were also solemn and silent. She lifted her eyes and studied the nearby faces intently. Some turned their heads and met her gaze but most continued to stare straight ahead. The women around her very understandably nervous. They had spent the last day travelling towards the front and the journey was beginning to tire her. Sometimes, the more she thought about it, the more she questioned why she had ever volunteered. The Red Cross had visited the hospital on numerous occasions but that one time, it had felt so right that they were there. She had not long come back to London when she had spoken with them and she had felt some feeling of relief at volunteering. But now, as she made her way closer to the battlefields, she struggled with her conscious and whether or not this really was the right thing to do. Emily felt her lips slightly curve as she thought of Tommy. The miles between them were closing by the minute and despite her not fully knowing where he would be at that time, she took some comfort in the fact that at least they were in the same country. As she thought about him, her brow slightly furrowed as she realised it had been some time since she had heard from him. She remembered writing her response to him so couldn't understand his silence. She racked her brain continuously until realisation hit her. Grasping the bag which sat precariously on her lap, she pulled open the straps and widened the opening of the bag. Raking around, she eventually found her journal and pulled it out. Quickly flicking through the pages, her heart sank as the telltale envelope fell out from within. Holding it in both her hands, she sighed. It had been over a month since she had written it and she couldn't help but wonder if Tommy was worrying about her, wondering why he hadn't heard from her.

"Do you need to post that?"

A voice from a nearby seat distracted her from her thoughts. "Excuse me?"

The woman nodded towards the letter in her hand. "Your letter. Do you need to post it? You can arrange for it to be sent on when we arrive."

Emily nodded. "Thank you."

"Is it for your sweetheart?" The woman asked, slightly teasingly.

Emily felt her cheeks slightly flush. "I suppose you could say that."

"Well then, we need to make sure you get that posted. Sometimes mail from home is the only thing keeping those boys sane. I'm Alice." She held her hand out towards Emily who happily accepted it.

"Emily." She responded. "Is this your first time out here?"

Alice shook her head. "Third. It gets slightly easier each time." She admitted, her eyes dropping down. "I don't have a family. I was a nurse in Manchester and then moved down to London around four months after the war started. I was stationed in military hospitals in France for six months at a time, first in 1915 and then again in January 1916 and now. I just wanted to do more."

Emily nodded as she listened intently. "I left my mother and siblings behind. They are in Birmingham."

"You're not from there though?" Alice asked.

Emily shook her head. "No, we're originally from London. My mother moved us North after the first coastal bombings. She panicked a bit. I stayed there for just over a year and then moved back to London. I was a nurse there originally and I couldn't stay away any longer. The Red Cross came to the hospital I was working in and before I knew what I was doing, I'd volunteered. My mother hit the roof when she found out I was coming to France."

"She'll be worried about you. But its perfectly safe. You'll have plenty of people around you. But I warn you, it isn't for the faint hearted. These hospitals are mainly used for severely injured soldiers to be treated before going back to England." She warned.

"I understand." Emily admitted.

"We don't have much further to go." Alice looked out the window, clearly in tune with the direction of travel. "You should get your things together."

 **A/N - Apologies for the slight delay in updating. Thank you for the reviews so far, particularly from KMHappyBunny who has loyally followed and reviewed both of my Peaky Blinders stories. I would love to hear what you're thinking so far so please leave me a little comment :) thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Isn't it a small world?**

March 3 1917

Another dawn had broken and Emily stirred in her sleep as she heard the noises of others moving around her. Slowly opening her eyes, she realised it was morning again. She swung her legs out from underneath the itchy green blanket and rubbed the sleep from the corners of her eyes. Getting to her feet, she made her way over to the nearby sink and started to clean up before finally getting dressed into her uniform. Pinning her long dark hair up had proven difficult every morning and she struggled to keep it secured underneath her nurses hat. Trying to push the strands away, she sighed as they continued to fall down the side of her cheeks. Ignoring them finally, she made her way out of the shared dormitory and headed directly to the hospital.

"Good morning Emily."

Emily smiled as her eyes fell on Alice. "Good morning." She was glad to see the friendly face every morning and couldn't deny she was happy that she had been stationed in the same hospital.

"It's going to be a busy morning. We had quite a number of new patients being admitted through the night Emily. A trap was set in one of the tunnels they were digging through. We lost quite a few men but five survived. Luckily, they were quite a bit behind when the mine exploded. Mainly injuries caused by shrapnel. One man has lost a leg. They'll need dressings changed shortly. Before you do that though, there's a pile of mail which has been left on my desk and frankly, its starting to get in my way. Most of the addressees should be here. If not, keep a separate pile and I can arrange for them to be rerouted. After that, can you start your rounds in ward two?"

"Of course." Emily smiled, pulling her apron on and tying the straps around her waist. Walking over to the desk, she picked up the pile of letters and started to flick through them, glancing over the names. Recognising a few, she made her way into one of the nearby wards, greeting the men who were already awake. She smiled as she handed them their letters, noting the thankfulness written clearly on their faces.

As she made her way through the different wards, handing out letters as she went, Emily could feel some element of satisfaction at this small act. Her hands fingered the final group of envelopes she had left as she walked along the long corridor. Looking down, she glanced over the writing and suddenly stopped in her tracks. She wasn't sure what it was that she noticed first. Whether it was her own handwriting or whether it was the name Thomas Shelby. But, either way, she was completely focused on the envelope in her hands. All this mail had been rerouted here as the men had recently been admitted to this hospital. Emily felt bile rising up in her throat. She knew this could mean only one of two things. Either Tommy was here, or he had been here. Meaning, there was every possibility he had been fatally injured. She thought back to what Alice had told her when she arrived. _Lost quite a few. One man lost a leg._ What was the chances of Tommy being one of the ones who had survived? He hadn't told her too much about the type of jobs he was given, but a tunneller? She hadn't expected that.

"Watch where you're going!"

Realising she had stopped right in the middle of the corridor, Emily jumped to the side as a fellow nurse tried to get by her pushing a gurney. Her eyes automatically fell to the man being carried along and she found herself wondering, was that him? Looking into the next ward, she stared at each man who lay in the beds. The hospital was huge and housed up to one hundred and fifty patients. The very thought that Thomas Shelby could be in the same hospital as her made her heart race. Months and months of anticipation from their letter exchanges had been building up and now, it was about to come to an end. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. Yes, she was pleased that there was every opportunity that she would finally get to put a face to the letters, but at the same time, she was sad that their communications could potentially be coming to an end. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she placed the last envelopes into the pocket of her apron. Determined to try and get on with her day, she made her way back to the nurses station to start doing her rounds.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The pain ripped through Tommy as the doctor changed the stitches in his leg. He grimaced at the touch and felt the muscles in his legs contracting, hissing through his teeth. He breathed a slight sigh of relief as the doctor finished and proceeded to instruct the nurse standing nearby to clean up the wound and wrap it.

"You should be out of here in a few days, Sergeant Major. Its mainly flesh wounds. You were very lucky." The doctor pursed his lips together, eyeing up the nurses handiwork as she quickly dressed his leg.

Tommy nodded. He still hadn't gotten used to his new title. Having been promoted following the incident with young Collins. He thought back to that day. His breath hitched in his throat as he thought about how close he had come to dying on the battlefield. His efforts had saved the young boys life and to be honest, he was thankful as his injuries were severe enough for him to be sent home. It was no place for him. He had no business even being there. He thought about how he would cope back in the real world. At such a young age, he didn't have a whole lot of life experience and Tommy worried that his experiences of war would be enough to tar the young mans mind forever. As the nurse finished, Tommy lay back against his pillow and closed his eyes. He tried to stop the noises and visions which plagued his subconscious but he found it incredibly difficult. He had spent so much of the last year underground, mainly in silence so as not to alert the enemy to their presence. His hearing had become so fine tuned to listen out for any slight scrape against the walls that he felt as though he could still hear it. The ward he was in was noisy with the sound of people talking, chairs and tables being scraped across the floor and people screaming in agony. But despite all that, Tommy found he zoned out from it all, and all he could hear was the incessant scraping of pick axes. He hoped that the few days he was due to spend here, could finally push the sounds out of his mind. Lifting his hand, he gently ran his fingers through his slightly overgrown hair, wincing as his fingertips grazed off several cuts throughout his hairline. Pulling his hand back down into his line of sight, he gazed at the slight red stains which now marked his skin. He was almost oblivious to it. He had seen so much bloodshed over the last few years that this graze seemed comical. He moved slightly, trying to get comfortable on the thin pillow behind him but it was futile. His thoughts were broken as another nurse pushed open the door and made her way inside and across to the patient in the nearby bed. He watched her intently as she worked, changing bandages, topping up medication and fixing bedsheets. The thought of the young nurse brought Emily to the forefront of his mind. He wondered what she was doing right at that time. Was she busy? Rushing around another hospital? Helping patients? Providing a shoulder to cry on and an ear to bend? Given her letters, he already had her pegged as a thoughtful, patient and kind woman. He believed her to be an incredibly talented nurse. Thomas closed his eyes as he tried desperately to imagine her. To conjure up any image which could be accurate. He had read over her letters hundreds of times each, feeling ever closer to her every time he did so. It had been a long time since he had even thought of another girl. The pain he went through with Greta was unimaginable and the possibility of ever having to face that again was too much for him to stomach. He felt it best to hold back from his feelings and emotions and not allow them to take over and influence his calm and collected thinking. He knew he had changed. Since arriving in France, his whole outlook was different. He felt anger like he had never felt before, and on more than one occasion, he had to stop and force away the red mist which was descending over him like a cloud. He had found himself snapping and shouting at his colleagues, unable to accept their slowness or weakness. Afterwards, he knew in his heart that he should apologise, yet he could never bring himself to do so. It concerned him, the man he had become. Greta wouldn't recognise him now. But Emily? Would she ever accept him like this? She brought out his true self in his letters. He found himself being honest with her. Speaking to her in the same way he'd have spoken to Greta only a few years previous. He never snapped at her. Never felt bored reading her words or felt any need to cut off their communication. Her letters provided him one of the very few happy moments he currently had in his life, and he felt a buzz whenever his name was called out and letters handed to him. He found himself skipping past Polly's familiar writing and searching for an envelope that he would recognise as being from Emily. His infantry made fun of him, teasing him about his young lover back home. He never had the heart to tell them that he had never met her. That they weren't lovers. But how he wished they were. Thomas' eyes flew open. He did wish they were. All the time he had been writing, he wanted to be able to speak the words aloud rather than having to write them down. He wanted to be in the same room as her, speaking about their day and other uninspiring subjects. As much as it sounded plain and boring, it was exactly what he wanted. Thomas couldn't deny he missed having companionship. He missed having a woman in his life. He had been so insistent that he had no interest in looking for another woman after Greta succumbed to consumption. Holding her hand tightly and watching her take her final breath had been agonising, so much so that he had found it difficult to even be in another woman's company in the months following. He felt irritated by the predicament he found himself in. Having trained his head to not allow a woman to alter his focus, he felt infuriated that somehow his heart had not kept up. How was it possible that a woman he had never met had affected him so much?

"Sergeant Major, you need to get some sleep. If matron finds you awake, she'll have your head and mine."

Thomas glanced up through his eyelashes at the nurse he had been watching earlier. She was standing in the doorway holding a small tray of medication, ready to move onto the next ward. He turned his head slightly towards the nearby window and noticed that the sun had long since set. He realised that he had been sitting thinking for several hours. He turned back towards the nurse who was still watching him intently. She raised one eyebrow towards him, indicating her insistence that he rests. Nodding, he closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep, having been unable to get any the night before.

March 4 1917

Another day had almost come to an end and Emily felt as though her feet were throbbing underneath. She had been working for almost eight hours so far but having agreed to cover the nightshift, she sighed at the thought of carrying on for another ten. The wards were starting to quieten down as patients began to drift off to sleep. Staff available were few and far between as doctors finished for the day. Thankfully, no major casualties had been admitted that day and Emily knew she could finally spend some time catching up on work she had been unable to deal with. Automatically, her hands went into her apron pocket and lifted out the last envelope she had. Due to the busyness of the hospital over the last couple of days, she had neglected to find Thomas and she could only hope he was still here.

"I'm going to check on the wards upstairs." She explained to her colleague who was sitting at the nearby nurses station. She simply nodded in agreement before carrying on with the paperwork she was dealing with.

Making moves towards the staircase at the end of the corridor, Emily took them one step at a time, finally pushing the door open when she got to the top. She hadn't yet been on this level but she could tell the layout was identical to the floor she usually worked on. Taking a right, she walked into the first ward she came to. Glancing around, she eyed the boards placed on the walls behind the beds which bore the injured soldiers names. None of them resonated with her and she sighed as she glanced over the sleeping forms lying in their beds. Her heart sank at some of the injuries they had. _If only people knew._ She thought to herself. Having been on both sides now, she knew those at home had no clue as to the extend of the injuries being suffered by the men fighting for their country. She made her way back out to the corridor and did the same in the next few wards, disappointment raining down on her as she couldn't find his name. Her fingers played with the letter in her hands as she made her way into another ward. Looking around, most of the beds were empty apart from the one nearest the window at the far side of the room. As she made her way inside, her heels clicked on the tiled floor, echoing around the room. Her eyes squinted under the artificial light as she focused on the name plate on the wall. _Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby._ Her eyes focused purely on the sign and she found she couldn't force herself to look down at the man lying in the bed. _Sergeant Major?_ She had no idea he was so senior and suddenly she felt like a fool.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you here for something?"

Emily's breath caught in her throat at the sound of his voice. It was familiar. How did she know it? It was a Brummie accent, and despite the slight slur to his voice from the medication, it was a strong one. Deep and gravelly, but somehow sensual. Her eyes finally drifted down to him and she could swear she felt her heart stop. His eyes were still closed, and she knew he hadn't seen her, but she knew immediately who he was. The man she had spent months conversing with was the very same man she had ran into on her first night in Small Heath. The same man who had sat beside her underneath the large oak tree on the outskirts of the town.

"You are Thomas Shelby?"

"The one and only." His eyes were still closed. "Why do you ask?"

"I've brought you your mail." She took a few tentative steps towards him, finally eyeing the bandaged leg which she could see sticking out from under his blanket. She wanted to run to him, take care of him yet, she knew she couldn't. Despite her feelings and their history, she had to remain professional.

"Thanks. Can you place it on the table?" he asked. He still didn't open his eyes but Emily could tell he was likely dosed on the medication his nurse would have given him. She was surprised he was even able to converse with her. Pushing the thought from her mind, Emily took a few steps towards him and placed the letter down gently.

"Are you a nurse?" he asked.

She wondered why he continued to ask questions without looking at her, until her eyes fell on the medication next to where she had placed his letter. Morphine. Just as she had suspected. "I am."

"What's your name?" He shifted slightly in the bed, causing the iron frame to creak under his weight. She was silent for a few more minutes, causing him to sigh. "You have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours."

"My name is Emily." She finally responded.

"Emily?" he repeated. "I know a girl called Emily."

"You do?" she asked, suddenly intrigued, ignoring the likelihood that he was sedated by the drug.

"She's a nurse too."

"Well isn't that something." She quipped. She wondered how long she should stay. Her eyes continued to study him.

"I don't know where she is though." He murmured. "She could be anywhere. London, I expect though. I'd give anything to get out this bed and find her. I need her. She's the only thing keeping me alive."

March 6 1917

She tossed and turned in her sleep for the third night in a row. Her encounter with Thomas had shaken her to her very core. She tried to force his words from her mind, putting it down to hallucinations and effects of the medication he was on. She hadn't seen him since and wasn't even sure if he was still in the hospital or if he had been discharged. Dawn was starting to break through the small cracks of the curtains which hung near her bed and she knew it would almost be time for her to rise. Turning again, she buried her face into the soft pillowcase, trying desperately to get even a small amount of sleep.

Nearby, another person was also struggling to sleep. Thomas found his body was refusing to rest. The effects of the opium in the morphine was starting to reduce and he started to feel the pain within his legs again. The last few days were a blur and he wanted nothing more than to get out of the bed and back to his barracks. Turning over, his eyes fell onto the small table at the side of his cot and rested upon the undisturbed envelope. Reaching over, he lifted the item and sat himself up against his pillow. Slipping his finger under the seal, he gently ripped it open. The room was still fairly well lit, allowing him to focus upon the penmanship which he had become so used to. Reading over the words, he was surprised to read that Emily had volunteered to help the war effort more than she was already doing, and then even more so to read that she had been stationed in France. Lifting up the envelope which he had discarded, he quickly turned it around, examining the return address on the back. His eyebrows lifted as he realised he was lying in the very place she was meant to be working.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - When Realisation Sets In**

March 8 1917

Tommy gripped onto the wooden walking stick as he attempted to get up from the bed which had felt like his prison for the last week. The doctor stood over him, watching his moves intently and trying to ascertain how his recovery was coming on. The shrapnel injuries in his legs were healing up nicely but they had taken its toll on Tommy's ability to walk.

"Ok, now I'd like to see you walk to the other end of the room and back." The doctor instructed.

Thomas nodded and started to take tentative steps across the tiled floor, wincing slightly as the pain ripped through him at the unwanted pressure which raised up through his legs. Getting to the other end of the room, he turned and began his walk back to the waiting doctor.

"I thought I was going to be out of here in a couple of days." He groaned as he reached his bed, allowing himself to drop down onto it.

"The sooner you can walk without those sticks, the sooner you'll get out of here." The doctor advised.

Standing in the shadows at the nearby door, stood Emily. Over the last few days, she had found herself wandering up to the higher floor to see how Thomas was doing. On most occasions, he was out cold with the medication his doctor had him on. She hadn't found the courage to venture into his room whilst he was awake since the first night she had found him there, choosing to steal fleeting glances at him whenever she did get a chance. Seeing him finally out of bed filled her with hope and as she watched him intently, her eyes cascaded over his strong form which up until, had always remained hidden. But now, she could see the outline of his shoulder blades and stomach through the white cotton shirt he wore and in his bed shorts, she could also see muscular definition in his calves and thighs. His hair had slightly grown out from when she had first met him in Birmingham, but he was still the same handsome man.

"I need a drink." Thomas complained as he lay back in the bed.

"Ah, nurse!"

Emily was pulled from her daydream as the doctors strict voice sounded across the large room. Startled, she glanced down at Tommy who thankfully, wasn't paying her much attention.

"Yes doctor?" she asked from the doorway, not daring to venture inside.

"Can you bring a pitcher of water and a glass please." He asked, turning around to face Tommy and therefore blocking her view of him.

Nodding, she turned and made her way along the corridor, her heart pounding. She could only hope the doctor would still be there by the time she came back. She wasn't sure if she was ready to meet him properly yet. The anticipation was almost too much for her to deal with and she couldn't decide whether she wanted to put an end to their correspondence. Reaching the sink, she pulled a large jug down from the shelf and filled it up. Lifting a glass, she placed both on a tray and made her way back along to his room. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the door and almost felt relieved as she noticed he was in bed and his eyes were closed. Taking a few quiet steps and trying desperately to stop the tray from rattling within her shaking hands, she ventured inside, placing the tray down on his bedside unit. She stole one final glance at him before she rushed back towards the door.

"You don't have much bedside manner."

Emily stopped suddenly as the voice startled her. "I thought you were asleep. I didn't want to disturb you." She answered without turning around.

"Would you mind pouring a glass of that out for me?" he asked, wincing in pain as he tried to turn in his bed.

Taking a deep breath, Emily turned and began making her way over to him, keeping her head down. He didn't lift his head as she approached and focused on fixing the sheets which had wrapped up around his legs in a rather uncomfortable fashion. Emily poured out the glass of water and handed it to him, trying to ignore her slightly shaking hands.

"Thank you." He took the glass from her and took a quick drink, thankful for the relief it had given to his dry mouth. Taking another drink and finishing its contents, he handed her the glass, only then allowing himself to catch a glance at her. "Hey, I know you."

She looked down at him, finally allowing their eyes to meet. Feigning surprise, she allowed a small smile to appear on her face.

"Nice to see you again."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking somewhat excited to see her.

She questioned whether to admit she was the one behind the letters he had been receiving, her eyes glancing over to the opened envelope which bore her handwriting on the nearby table. "I was stationed here some time ago." She answered, keeping it vague.

"You know, you never did tell me your name." he smiled up at her.

Pausing, she thought for a second. She wasn't sure what to do. Taking a breath, she took a step towards him. "My name is Emily."

She watched him intently as his brow furrowed and she could tell he was thinking intently. Nothing was said for a few seconds and Emily felt slightly uncomfortable as his eyes studied her carefully. Before anything else could be said between them, Emily was almost knocked off her feet as the entire building shook around her. A massive explosion rang out and her eyes widened as she grasped onto the edge of Tommy's bed. As the movement of the building came to an end, Emily pushed herself back upright.

"What was that?" she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She was shaking, almost violently at the impact.

Tommy was sitting up in bed, his eyes darting around until they finally landed on Emily. He rested his hand on top of hers trying to relax her. "Are you ok?"

She shuddered at his touch before pulling her hand away. "Yes. I think so. I should go and find out what's going on."

Trying not to look at him again, she made her way towards the doorway and looked up and down to corridor. Several screams were ringing out around her and she could tell instantly that whatever had happened, had devastating consequences. Darting towards the staircase, Emily rushed downstairs, almost immediately coming face to face with Alice.

"Emily! Thank god you're ok."

"What's happened?"

Alice grasped her arm and pulled her down the corridor. "We've been hit by an enemy airstrike. Luckily it hit the outskirts of the building but the bottom wing is badly damaged. The last wards down here are the worst hit. We'll have lost people Emily. I need you to prepare for that. We need to start getting people out. They're already working to put the fires out. Can you start in here, and move all the patients as far away from here as possible." Alice stopped them outside the ward and indicated to the clearly frightened patients inside. Nodding, Emily made her way inside to do what she could.

April 8 1917

The world was gunning for Germany. In recent days, several countries had declared war on them indicating a clear escalation in tensions across the world. Thomas had patiently waited for this day and now he was finally fit for getting back to the front. An aim of spending just a week in hospital turned out to be a pipe dream and resulted in a month long stay. He thought back to his encounter with the young woman he had met back in Birmingham. He couldn't quite believe how small a world it had been and how they had been brought back together. Lifting together all of his belongings, he placed them into his rucksack. Opening the drawer, he was drawn to the pile of letters which sat inside. Flicking through them, he recognised the ones he had received from his brothers and his Aunt and finally he came to the last letter he had received from Emily. He hadn't written back to her since realising she was stationed at the same hospital. He didn't need to. Despite the fact they hadn't admitted it to each other, he knew the Emily from Birmingham and his penpal saviour were the same woman. Having made a few subtle enquiries, he learnt that she was indeed the only nurse named Emily who worked in that particular hospital. He gathered that she was also aware of this fact, given how uncomfortable she appeared to be around him. Whilst he was glad to get back to his battalion, he felt somewhat sad that he may not see her again for sometime. He found himself hoping that she would be around before he left. He knew there were several soldiers being discharged that day and he knew he would have to wait for them all before he would be taken back. Buttoning up his uniform jacket and placing his cap on his head, Thomas threw his rucksack over his shoulder and made his way out of the door. He glanced up and down the corridor but he seen no sign of her. Disappointed, he made his way towards the staircase.

Xxxxxx

Tossing and turning, Emily opened her eyes. Glancing over at the clock, she realised it was almost three in the afternoon. Rolling onto her back, she sighed as she admitted defeat that she would finally need to get up. She wasn't used to having to try and sleep until the afternoon but she had agreed with Alice that she would cover the night shift this week. Getting up, she made her way to her cupboard and pulled out her uniform before finally making her way across to the hospital.

As she arrived, she was greeted by several doctors crowded in a circle with Alice standing nearby. "What's happening?" she whispered.

Alice turned to her. "We've got a fair amount going on. We've got several soldiers going back to the front, but we've also had another high number of patients arriving. I need you urgently to go upstairs and start dealing with some of the minor injuries."

Emily nodded and pulled her coat off, hanging it up as she went. Pulling on her apron and adjusting her hat, she made her way up the staircase to the top floor. Her heart starting pounding as she opened the door into the corridor, her eyes immediately falling on the ward door directly across from her. She had been avoiding Thomas, she couldn't deny it, but now she was here again. Taking a breath, she took a few steps towards the doorway, ready to greet him. However, as she reached the door, her heart sank at the sight of the freshly made bed. It was empty, and his name was scrubbed from the board on the wall. He was gone. Her head dropping down towards the floor, she tried to force the tears which threatened to fall from her eyes. Determined not to allow it to get to her, she wiped her eyes of any wet residue and forced herself to get on with her rounds.

April 13 1917

She woke up suddenly by sitting bolt upright in bed. Sweat poured from her forehead and she felt he nightdress stick to her back. She tried to force the images from her mind, but the last few days at the hospital had proven to be almost too much for her. The sight of the men who had recently been admitted were harrowing and in all her years of working in hospitals in London, she had never seen anything like this. Blisters were formed on their faces and bodies, some had gone blind and they were fighting for breath. The last few days were haunting her and she had struggling to sleep ever since. Placing her head in her hands, she took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. Getting up, she grabbed a nearby towel and wiped down her brow and the back of her neck. Splashing water on her face, Emily gripped the side of the sink. Glancing up at the nearby mirror, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Her eyes were heavy and black circles had begun to form underneath. She looked ill but yet, she knew she couldn't give in. She had no idea where Thomas was, and she had been incredibly disappointed at the fact she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye. Moving back to the nearby desk, Emily sat down and switched on the small lamp. Pulling out a few pieces of paper, she decided she had to write to him again. She had been disappointed at the fact that he had never responded to her last letter, and she wondered whether he knew her true identity. Before they had been distracted by the recent attack on the hospital, Tommy had looked at her curiously, and this had made her believe he may knew who she was. Putting pen to paper, she began writing.

 _"_ _Dearest Thomas,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. I realise you haven't responded to my last letter and I wasn't sure if there was a particular reason for this._

 _I should be honest with you, although, I am not sure if you perhaps already know the truth. It may have dawned on you that we have already met. Once upon a time in Birmingham and then again, at the hospital. I truly did not know who you were, but I have to admit, I lived for your letters. They kept me going in times of difficulty and I enjoyed reading about your stories._

W _hen I first saw you, I couldn't quite believe it was you. I struggled to push myself to spend any time with you as I wasn't sure how you would react._

 _I truly hope you have recovered well. I understand if you no longer wish for me to contact you. If I don't hear from you, I will assume this is the case. I wish you all the best._

 _All my love,_

 _Emily."_

April 27 1917

He knew it. As he read over her most recent letter, he knew deep down that she was the very same woman. He had questioned himself over and over again whilst he had been cooped up in the hospital and now re-reading her letter, it was clear to him that she had realised it as well. He wondered how long she had known for. How long had she spent wandering in and out of his ward knowing exactly who he was. Why had she never mentioned it? Why had she never spoken to him, other than in a professional context? From her letter, it was clear she was anxious about admitting who she was and unsure of his reaction. But now, back in the barracks, he wasn't sure when he would get the chance to see her again. But what he did know, was he wasn't about to keep her waiting any longer. Pulling out a piece of paper and pen, he began writing.

 _"_ _My Dearest Emily,_

 _I apologise for my delay in responding to you. Please rest assure, there was no malice behind this._

 _I'll admit, I didn't realise at first who you were but now that I do, I am determined I will come back from this war and find you. I know it is a lot to ask of you, but I hope that you will wait for me. You have been the only consistent factor in my life over the last few months and have done so much to keep me sane and focused._

 _I am back in the trenches for now, but it is likely I will be heading underground in the next week or so, and therefore, I will apologise in advance for the potential delay of any future response. Please do not worry in this case. The air is thick with bombs and grenades and when they go off, it feels as though five earthquakes are going off at once. I don't know how much easier I will find it to be in the tunnels instead._

 _I hope all is as well as it can be at the moment in the hospital. I have recently written to my two brothers to find out how they are getting on. It has been so long since I seen them and I hope they are well. I haven't heard anything to the contrary from my Aunt Polly._

 _I will leave it at that. I hope to hear from you soon._

 _All my love,_

 _Tommy."_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – Life At Home Doesn't Stop**

June 18 1917

Polly paced the hallway over and over again. She held John's youngest in her arms as she trailed the length of the hall.

"Aunt Polly! Where's mummy?"

She turned on her heel and came face to face with John and Martha's eldest. "She's just with the doctor sweetheart. Why don't you go and find your brothers and play. Finn will be outside as well."

Nodding, Katie turned and rushed down the staircase, slamming the front door behind her. Polly took a deep breath and made her way through to one of the bedrooms and placed the young child she had been holding into their bed, willing them to try and sleep. Lighting a cigarette, she watched for a few moments until their eyes finally closed. On hearing a nearby door open, she rushed back into the hallway to be greeted by the doctor.

"Mrs Grey, where is Mrs Shelby's husband?"

Taking another drag, she eyed him over. "He's in France. At the front. I've sent word to his regiment when Martha started getting sick but I haven't heard from him yet."

He nodded, glancing back at the door. "I think its important he gets here as soon as is reasonably possible. I don't believe she has long left."

July 14 1917

John stormed through the streets of Small Heath. His bag was rattling across his shoulder as he ran as fast as his heavy boots could take him. He ignored the stares from the passer-by's. He wasn't sure if it was his uniform which was distracting them or the fact he was pushing through them but at this point, he couldn't care. He had only recently received the letter from Polly despite her sending it almost a month ago. He hadn't since had another chance to speak with her and he had no idea what would be waiting for him at home. He could only pray that Martha was safe and well, but yet, in his gut, he knew life wasn't going to be the same.

As he rounded the corner, he finally reached his front door. He always believed he would savour the moment of being back here after spending the last two years abroad, but yet, he couldn't even begin to enjoy it. Pushing open the door, he dumped his bag in the corner and began shouting around the house.

"Polly!"

Appearing at the top of the stairs, Polly took in a deep breath at the sight of her nephew standing at the door. Her eyes drifted over him trying desperately to remember what he had looked like when he had last been here. He had seemed so young, and now, she couldn't believe this man who was standing in front of her.

"John." She rushed down to him and wrapped him up in her arms. "I'm so pleased to see you. I wasn't sure if they had gotten word to you."

"Where is she Pol?" He began to take steps towards the staircase.

Polly grasped his hand, tugging him gently backwards. "I'm sorry John." Tears were beginning to form in her eyes as John turned back to face her. "It's too late."

"What do you mean its too late?"

Polly shook her head and collapsed into the nearby chair, her head buried in her hands.

"Pol. Tell me whats going on?!" he demanded.

She finally looked back up at him. "She's gone John. A week ago. The doctors did all they could. She developed a high fever. It was consumption John. Same as what got Greta."

John felt as though his heart stopped. His hand flew up and desperately tried to grip onto the nearby bannister as he fell down onto the staircase. An animal like noise radiated around the room and it was only then that he realised the noise had come from him. Polly got to her feet and rushed over to him, wrapping her arms up around him. The pain and sadness quickly overcame him and he couldn't do anything other than let it out.

August 23 1917

Tommy's hand shook as his eyes read over the letter in his hand. As he glanced over Polly's writing, he couldn't quite take in what his Aunt was telling him. All the thoughts and feelings he had over Greta came flooding back. Pinching the corners of his eyes, he refused to allow himself to cry in front of his soldiers. He thought of John and how he was coping. Polly had mentioned that he was home for now but he likely would need to go back to the front very soon. Clearly the fact he now had children to take care of made no difference, thus leaving Polly and Ada to look after them once John had gone back to France. He could only hope and pray that this war would be over soon. However, the sounds of the artillery shells exploding in the distance told him otherwise.

"Tom? Everythin' ok?"

Tommy looked up to see Freddie standing beside him. "Our Martha's died. John is back in Small Heath. Consumption."

Freddie acknowledged him solemnly, somewhat unsure of what to say. "You remember what Jeremiah said? When we thought it was all over, waiting for the Prussian Cavalry?"

Thomas nodded, looking up at him. "In the bleak midwinter."

Placing his hand on Tommy's shoulder, he squeezed gently. "In the bleak midwinter."

November 16 1917

She was struggling. She didn't mind admitting that. Nine months Emily had now been away from home and it had also been seven months since she had last seen Thomas. They had continued to converse during that time and their letters had become more and more personal. Almost as though they were young lovers separated by hundreds of miles and counting the days until they were in each others arms again. Since Thomas had told her he would find her when he was finally home, she happily admitted that she would wait for him. What else could she do? She wasn't about to allow over a year of conversing to come to an abrupt end. He had confided in her about his family and his plans for when he was home. Living in the trenches had allowed him some serious time to think and he had ideas in his head about the family and moving into business. Bookmakers, that was his idea. Emily had to admit to him that she didn't know a whole lot about it. Betting. Gambling. Horses. It really meant nothing to her but from his letters, she could tell he was passionate about it. She found herself spending many lonely nights imagining what her life could be like with Thomas Shelby. Would they get married after the war? Could they have children? He had told her about Greta before he had gone to war and initially, Emily hadn't taken too much from that conversation having not expected to ever see him again. But she understood now just how much it had affected him. He was clearly still hurting, and part of Emily was unsure if she should get involved with someone whilst they were still grieving for a past love. Yet, she couldn't help herself. She was fascinated by him and wanted to know more about him. She wanted to be involved in his life, one way or another.

"Nurse!"

She was awoken from her daydream by an abrupt scream sounding behind her. Turning on her heel, she jumped out of the way as a group of doctors rushed towards her pushing a gurney.

"Emily, follow that trolley." Alice appeared beside her. "This man could die if we don't get him into theatre now. They need your help in there."

Saying nothing, Emily took to her heels and rushed after the doctors. It hadn't been the first time she had been called into surgery and she knew it would unlikely be the last, but everytime she did, she felt as though a little bit of her soul died. The injuries sustained by these men were usually horrific and it wasn't unusual to see them coming in with limbs torn off, skin melting from their body or horrific facial injuries. It was these times where she questioned everything. Why she was there. Whether she could handle it any longer. The images she witnessed in those rooms were the ones which kept her awake at night and caused her awful nightmares. She never mentioned any of this in her letters to Tommy or to her mother for fear of worrying them, so she bottled it up and tried to push through. Ignoring the thoughts as they begun to cloud her mind, she followed the doctors into the theatre, desperately trying to prepare herself for what she was about to deal with.

February 27 1918

Another year came and went. On the whole, looking around, it seemed as though nothing had changed, however, the papers were telling a different story. As Tommy glanced over the newspaper which had been left for his regiment, he tried to take in the information. Since America had become involved in the war, there seemed to be a shift. Submarine warfare by the Germans had pulled them into the war but President Wilson seemed determined to avoid the US getting involved directly in the European tensions. He had recently made a speech outlining his 'Fourteen Points' Something which was to be used directly to end the war. Lloyd George seemed sceptical so as a result, Thomas couldn't say for definite that this would ultimately result in the end of the conflict, although, despite not having been to church for some time, he prayed for it. He leaned against the trench wall and tried to close his eyes. He had taken to sleeping sitting up in the last few weeks mainly due to the bad weather. The trench was muddy and no matter how hard he tried, he would always wake up with his head lying in the puddles and dirt. The last straw for him was having a rat crawl over his face. Unable to take much more of it, he had forced himself to learn to sleep with his back against the wall, however uncomfortable it may be. The sun made it difficult for him to try and sleep but he knew it wouldn't be too long before it eventually went down. He was due to awaken at nightfall to begin the long night watch.

As he allowed his eyes to drift shut, he thought of Emily. He prayed it wouldn't be long until he would be eventually home and they could try to get to know each other better outside of this conflict. But at the moment, he could only contend with the image of her which bore into his mind and her words on the countless letters from her he had tucked inside his jacket pocket.

April 17 1918

"Home? Are you sure?"

Emily looked on in disbelief. She was flanked by another four nurses and Alice was standing in front of them delivering the news.

"I am sure. You have all been here for a long time. We have another group of nurses on their way to relieve you all. You can go back to your families for now." Alice explained.

Emily glanced around her at the reactions of her colleagues and although they all seemed ecstatic at the fact of seeing their families again, Emily couldn't quite force herself into the same reaction. She knew she should be happy, but she came here to help people, and she didn't feel as though her work was done. What would she do when she was back? Would she go back to London? Birmingham? Where did she belong? She suddenly felt no sense of identity. All she had known for the last fourteen months was this hospital. She had grown to know the doctors and nurses. She had seen men come and go, some recovering, some not so lucky. But here, she felt she had a purpose. Nodding, she made her way back to her room. She wasn't due on duty for another few hours but Alice had wanted to deliver the news as soon as she'd had it confirmed. She had explained that they would be leaving on Saturday. That was only three days away. As she reached her room, Emily sat down at the small table and placed her head in her hands. She knew she should be grateful but she just felt lost. Knowing only one person could possibly understand how she felt, she pulled out a few sheets of paper from the drawer and began to write.

 _"_ _My darling Thomas,_

 _I fear I am being selfish. I have been informed today that on Saturday, April 20_ _th_ _, my services here are no longer required. The matron on my ward delivered the news to me and four others that we would be allowed to go home for now. That isn't to say we may not be needed here again in the future, but they believe we should be able to see our families. We have done our duty for now._

 _I can't decide how I feel about this. And I believe that if anyone could possibly understand this, it would be you._

 _I know I should be happy at the thought of going home and seeing my family, but all I can think of is the people here. Surely they need me? I don't even know where home is. Do I go back to London? Do I go to Birmingham? I have no idea where I belong anymore, I've spent so much time in France. I think I will need to go to Birmingham first. I cannot go back to England and not go and see my mother and siblings. I have enclosed her address on the back of this letter. Please forward on any response to that address._

 _I apologise for burdening you with my reckless emotions but I just didn't know who else to turn to._

 _I hope you are well, and you are managing to sleep. I worry for you not being able to sleep._

 _All my love,_

 _Your Emily."_

May 10 1918

Summer had finally started to appear and Emily tried her best to push the nightmare of the last year of her life from her mind, yet she was finding it incredibly difficult. She sat under the same oak tree she had before and every so often, when she heard a rustle beside her, she would sit up quickly, hoping that perhaps Thomas had returned but it was always nothing. A leaf blowing in the wind, a bird taking flight or a rabbit rushing across the field. But it was never him. She had taken to disappearing here for hours at a time once the better weather had appeared, unable to deal with her mothers constant questions and comments. She thought back to the day she had finally arrived back in Birmingham. It was almost three weeks since she had arrived home and she couldn't deny she had received an amazing welcome from her mother and siblings. She couldn't believe how much the little ones had grown. Henry had taken a growth spurt whilst she'd been gone but he was still the same cheeky little boy he always had been, completely oblivious to the fighting going on all across the world. He had told her all about a young boy he had gotten to know. Finn Shelby. Emily had frozen when she had heard that name. Thomas had mentioned a younger brother but had never spoke of his name. Her mother had told her all about him, how he was two years older than Henry, who was now eight years old. She had also mentioned that she had gotten to know Polly Grey, Finn's Aunt. Emily couldn't believe how their families had crossed at so many different levels. Whilst she had been in France, getting to know Thomas, their families had also been getting acquainted. She had tried her best to fit back in with normal life, but she couldn't deny she was finding it difficult. The lack of messages from Tommy was also concerning her. She hadn't heard from him since she had left France despite her providing a new forwarding address. She worried that he had tried writing to her but it hadn't made its way here. But then again, she wondered that something had happened to him. She hadn't yet found the courage to approach Polly, although her mother had pointed her out a numerous occasions whilst they walked around Small Heath.

Sighing, she allowed her head to fall back against the bark of the tree trunk and closed her eyes. It had been weeks since she had managed to get a full night of sleep and she found herself unable to stop the nightmares which had been plaguing her for months. She wondered if this was how Thomas felt most nights. He had spoken of having difficulty sleeping for the entire time she had known him and she wondered if this was a similar experience for him.

Getting to her feet, Emily glanced around as she began the long walk back down to the town. The sun was starting to set and she could feel the air growing cooler. She suddenly regretted not lifting her coat as she pulled the lightweight cardigan around her, pinning it tightly to her body. Making her way quickly along the cobbled path, she prayed that there would be a letter waiting for her when she arrived home, but as she pushed open the heavy door and glanced around, she could tell was in for a disappointment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - Home is Where the Heart Is**

July 28 1918

Was it too good to be true? Over the last week or so, rumours had been flooding back to soldiers that the German Army had been heavily impacted at Marne. The fighting was still going on there but Thomas and his regiment were hopeful that this would begin to signify the beginning of the end. He knew however not to get his hopes up. On many occasions in the past, similar rumours had circulated around the barracks and trenches that the Central Powers had suffered heavy defeats, yet it had never come to anything. As he continued to manoeuvre his way through the narrow tunnels, he found himself thinking of Emily. It had been almost three months since he had last heard from her. As soon as he had received her letter explaining she was being sent home, he had responded immediately. Part of him was incredibly glad she was home and out of harms way but he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed at the fact he was even further away from her now, with no idea as to when he would see her again.

As he crawled through the mud and dirt, he wondered what she would be doing right at that moment. She told him she would wait for him, but part of him couldn't help but worry that perhaps she had met someone else. Was that why he hadn't heard from her? He couldn't be sure.

"Tom, you movin'?" Freddie's voice sounded behind him and it was only then he realised he had stopped.

"Yeah." He murmured, trying to push the thoughts from his mind. He had bigger things to deal with.

November 11 1918

Thomas held his hand up to silence his friend who was talking incessantly beside him. As his eyes drifted up along the trench, he watched as his superiors made the walk towards him. Without saying anything, they handed him a small note. Thomas nodded as they turned and disappeared back down the way they had come.

"What's going on?" Freddie asked.

Tommy unfolded the paper and allowed his eyes to glaze over the words.

 _Hostilities will be stopped on the entire front beginning at 11 o'clock , November 11_ _th_ _(French time)_

The feeling was surreal. The last few weeks had been intense, and Tommy's regiment had been part of a further advance towards the German border. Now, as he sat against his trench dugout, thinking back over the last four years, it was almost bittersweet. He handed Freddie the note and signalled for him to continue passing it down the trench. Opening his jacket, Thomas reached inside and lifted the gold pocket watch from the internal pocket. There was only an hour to go. He got to his feet and began walking the length of the trench, not sure when he would stop. The noise of the guns and artillery shells continued to ring out. He thought of home and what the reactions there would be. No doubt the announcement of the end of the conflict had reached the general public before it had reached the soldiers. He imagined street parties and celebrations. Music and dancing. As he continued walking, he pulled his watch back out of his pocket. To his surprise, it was almost 11am. He had been walking for almost an hour, speaking with his comrades as he went, making them aware of the situation. As he came to a halt, Tommy allowed himself to sit down. Looking at his watch, he stared at it as the second hand ticked slowly around before finally passing the twelve, indicating a new hour. He looked around and his eyes fell on countless men who returned his stare. They too, appeared to not know how to react. Thomas simply nodded to indicate the time had come before allowing his head to drop down. His head jerked back up as the sound of heavy fire continued.

After a while, he looked back at his watch and realised another hour had gone by. _Why were they still firing?_ As he contemplated this, he began wondering whether or not this armistice was true. Tommy got to his feet and began making his way back towards Freddie. His ears were almost on stalks, listening intently for the sound of the enemy but nothing came.

As light began to turn to darkness, he and his regiment sat around a small log fire, an unusual sight on the front. Thomas glanced around the men sitting with him and he could tell they were nervous. Their body language was easy to read, and their eyes were wide, darting around the darkness which surrounded them. It was difficult to switch off and to believe that the fighting had really finished. He heard moans and slight screams coming from a few meters away and could only imagine the psychological warfare the men were going through, suddenly having no need to think of war, no need to consider danger and the enemy was exhausting. His future seemed almost inconceivable at this point. He had no idea what he was going to do with his life and it terrified him. As he stood from the fire, he disappeared back down into the trench and sat down. Many men had already fallen into an exhaustive sleep and Thomas wished he could do the same yet, it seemed to allude him. The eerie quiet unnerved him and despite there being no immediate sounds, as soon as he closed his eyes, the scraping of pick axes through the trench walls assaulted his brain.

December 18 1918

Polly, Ada and Finn paced the train station platform impatiently. They were surrounded by other families doing the exact same thing yet, they felt as though they were completely alone there. Only focusing on each other and keeping their eyes focused on the train tracks which disappeared out into the distance.

"What is takin' so long?" Polly complained, making moves to the small metal bench which sat against the nearby wall. John sat with his chin placed in his clasped hands. He had been home for a week already and now, he waited patiently with his Aunt and siblings for the arrival of his two other brothers. They had received word that both would be travelling on the same train back to Birmingham and John couldn't help but feel incredibly grateful that despite four years of carnage, all of the Shelby brothers had managed to survive. He just wished that Martha could have been here to see the end of it. It had been over a year since she had succumbed to consumption and John couldn't believe how much the children had grown whilst he'd been away. He had to hand it to Pol, she'd done a great job with them. But now, he was back, and he had to step up and take on the role of both parents.

"There it is!" Ada's shrill shriek suddenly awakened John from his trance. Jumping to his feet, he made his way to the edge of the platform along with every other person there. He looked up the track as the bright light from the train radiated towards them.

As the train came to a screeching halt, the crowds took a few steps back. Eyes darted along the windows as faces began to appear. Polly gripped onto Ada's arm and held Finn tight to her body so he didn't get lost. Her grasp tightened as the train doors began to open and tired, weary looking men descended onto the platform. Cheers and screams echoed around the station as loved ones were reunited.

"There!" Ada raised her arm, pointing further up the track.

Following the direction she was pointing in, Polly's eyes fell upon the sight of her eldest nephew as he descended from the train. Gripping onto Finn's hand, Polly pushed forcibly through the crowd, leaving Ada and John trailing behind her.

"Arthur!" she yelled, trying to catch his attention. He turned in the direction of the scream and allowed a brief smile to appear on his face at the sight of his aunt. Stepping down onto the platform, he had to stop himself from falling backwards as Polly came tearing into him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Hey, Pol. Come on now. I've not been gone that long." He chuckled.

"Four years too long Arthur." She cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Where's Thomas?"

"Right here."

December 31 1918

She could hear the sounds of cheering and music sounding from the streets below. Emily got to her feet and made moves towards the window. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight and she could see the smiling happy faces dancing around, cheering the start of a new year and putting an end to the difficulties and horrors Britain had faced over the last few years. 1919 signalled a new beginning but Emily couldn't see past the dark clouds that had descended over her subconscious since she had arrived home from France. Everything about it was negative. Her entire experience there had been harrowing. The images of the patients she treated had burned a permanent scar in her mind. Not only that, it had been months since she'd heard from Tommy. She had never received a response to her letter after she was sent home. She couldn't help but worry that something had happened to him, and daily, she contemplated jumping on a train and going to Birmingham to try and track him down. She had only managed the journey once since she had been home, and it was clear that many of the soldiers from that area had not come home yet. As she watched people dancing below, she couldn't allow herself to feel happy. Pulling herself back from the window, she made her way to the opposite end of the room and pressed her back up against the wall. Sliding down it until she met the floor, she felt the tears bubbling up within her tear ducts and unable to hold them back, they fell unceremoniously down her cheeks.

April 30 1919

"Arthur, call the family round. Family meeting. Ten minutes." Tommy bellowed from the parlour.

"Right you are Tom." Arthur made his way into the living room, leaving his brother behind.

He watched intently as one by one, his family began to file into the room. They glanced over him, desperately trying to read his expression but it was futile. Thomas' icy gaze stood firm. Polly looked up at him as she took her seat. She struggled with this new demeanour of his. He stood tall, dressed in a well tailored three piece suit and his peaked cap was placed firmly on his head, almost covering his eyes from sight. Polly turned her head slightly as Arthur and John appeared, closing the door behind them. They were dressed in a similar fashion to their brother and Pol could see the glint of the small blades sown into their caps as the light bounced off them. She lit a cigarette and tried to think back over the last few months. Since the boys had come back from France, she couldn't deny it was as though they left their souls on the battlefield. Their outlooks had changed drastically and since they had arrived back in Small Heath, Thomas had thrown himself into further building the family business that he had spent hours talking of before he had been drafted. Now, it was a reality. But it wasn't just that. She remembered Thomas, Arthur and John doing what they could to help their fellow neighbours. They would kick around a football with the local youngsters but now, they did not dare look the Shelby brothers way. Residents would step out of their way and refuse to look them in the eye. They knew the reputation they had now and they did whatever they could to stay in good favour with them, knowing all to well the consequences of getting on the wrong side of them.

"Quiet." Thomas finally spoke. "As you all know, we have been doing what we can to secure involvement in the English racetracks. As you've seen, the parlour is almost set up ready to begin business. I expect we should be open within the week."

Polly listened intently as Thomas continued to set out his plan for the business. He spoke as though he was set for world domination and she watched as his brothers nodded in agreement. She had been the one keeping on top of the business whilst the boys had been away, but Thomas' ideas now were well above what she had ever thought of. Whilst he didn't specifically say, Polly could tell that the idea of a betting shop was only the start of Thomas' plan. The set up of the family as a local gang had shown her that and she knew that Thomas' experiences in France had only served to make him bitter and angry and now, as a result, he was more determined than ever to make something of himself.

"That's all." Thomas dismissed the family from his room and lit a cigarette as they quickly dispersed. Polly got to her feet and made steps towards him.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

May 2 1919

She writhed in pain as the nurses tried to hold her down. A doctor appeared beside her and immediately her eyes went to the small syrette in his hands. She knew exactly what it was for and continued to try and escape the clutches of those holding her down but it was too difficult and she could only watch on helplessly as the doctor injected the small needle into her skin. Her eyes clenched tightly at the unwanted intrusion and she continued to try and kick her legs and arms. Eventually, the morphine started to take effect and she felt her body begin to relax. No longer struggling, the nurses loosened their grip as her eyes began to softly close. The doctor nodded to the nurses, indicating they can let her go.

"She'll be out for a while." He confirmed. "Can you get her cleaned up?"

The nurses nodded, glancing down to her blood stained wrists. They were struggling with this particular patient. She was one of them. Emily had been back at the London hospital for the past few months since she had arrived back from France, but they couldn't deny she was a completely different person from the one who left. She was forgetful, angry and regularly snapped at her patients which wasn't like her at all. To see her brought in that morning with slashes to her wrists had been difficult for her colleagues to stomach. Given the nature of her injuries, the doctor had insisted she be treated under the terms of absolute secrecy, refusing to allow anyone outside of a small number of nurses, to know the exact circumstances of which she was admitted.

May 3 1919

As the sunlight streamed into the small room, Emily's eyes squinted as they finally opened. Looking around, she struggled to understand her surroundings and recognise where she was. Lifting her hands, she rubbed the corners of her eyes. It was only then that she spotted the bandages wrapped around both wrists and at that point, she remembered everything. Closing her eyes again and taking a deep breath, she pulled her bedsheets up over her head, trying desperately to block out the pain. She thought back to the last thing she could remember. She had been in her flat alone, having spent the night with some friends. She had drank quite a lot and was feeling unsteady on her feet as she'd attempted to take the staircase up to her front door, stumbling a few times on the way. As she'd made her way inside, she'd found herself sitting on her small single bed and her eyes had fallen on the chest of drawers which sat adjacent. Having opened the top drawer, she had pulled out all of her letters from Thomas and read through them all. As she had reached the final letter she had received, she felt the darkness cloud over her. Emily looked up at the date he had written in the top corner of the letter. It was dated more than a year previous.

 _One year without a word._

She couldn't help but feel sad and worried at having not heard from him. She questioned whether to ask her mother to do some digging back in Birmingham but each time she thought about it, she pushed it from her mind. As far as she was concerned, there was only two reasons why she hadn't heard from him, and both were too much for her to stomach. As she'd drank more and more, her thoughts had become darker and she felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She remembered getting up and making a move towards her dresser. Lifting up her small hand held mirror, she brought it down hard against the table, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. Crouching down, she had lifted a large piece and brought it up to her wrist. And now, the next thing she remembered was waking up where she now lay. She pulled the covers tight to her body and desperately tried to comprehend how she had allowed herself to fall so far into the abyss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 - A new face in an old town**

May 23 1919

How Birmingham had changed over the last few months. How the Shelby's had changed. What had merely been an idea in Thomas' head had been effectively and successfully put into practice by Polly's intuitive and ruthless nature. Now, as Thomas rode through the streets of Small Heath on his tall and noble black steed, he could sense the tides turning. He sat high above the towns residents, his grey baker boy hat pulled down over his eyes. Little glints of light bounced from the edges of the cap, highlighting the razor blades which had been sewn carefully into the lining, paying homage to the families now almost infamous identity of the Peaky Blinders. People eyed him cautiously as he rode bareback through Garrison Lane. Policemen greeted him as though he was royalty, tipping their hats to him. Stopping off at his Uncle Charlie's yard, he climbed down from the horse and handed the reins to Curly. Enough time had been spent wandering around the streets. He had to get back to the Shelby household on Watery Lane. The betting parlour he had dreamed of was coming along nicely and he had begun targeting racetracks across England. His most recent purchase, Monaghan Boy was due to race at Kempton the coming Monday and his traveller background had brought him down to another part of town. Spells and fixing races infuriated his brother Arthur. Something Finn was now taking great pleasure in telling him. As Thomas made his way through the house, he pulled back the heavy curtains and pushed open the doors hidden behind. The noise and smell his him instantly. The unmistakable aroma of whisky and smoke hung in the air. What also wasn't surprising was the excitement of the men in the room in the run up to the Kempton races. Money was exchanging hands left, right and centre. John was rushing around at the far end of the room, writing odds up on the blackboard. His suit jacket had been discarded somewhere and his hair was slicked back on his head.

"Tommy! Tommy!" he shouted down as his brother made his way through the crowd. "Look at the books. Just look. All on Monaghan Boy."

Thomas let out a rare smile as he glanced over the pages in front of him. Things were certainly coming together and the number of bets being placed on his horse was impressive. "Good work, John."

"Tommy!" Arthurs dulcet tones sounded across the room, essentially summoning his younger brother. "In here. Now."

Tommy could see the look on his face. It wasn't unusual for Arthur to walk around as if he was chewing a wasp, but on this occasion, Tommy knew exactly what had riled him up. Choosing not to make a scene, he followed, almost dutifully behind into the small nearby office, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall and sighed as Arthur poured out a glass of whisky.

"Now, you were seen doing the powder trick down at Garrison Court." He started.

"Times are hard. People need a reason to lay a bet." Tommy didn't move from his stance against the wall.

"There was a Chinese." Arthur continued, taking a drink.

"The washer woman says she's a witch. It helps them believe."

"We don't mess with the Chinese."

"Look at the book, Arthur." Tommy stated.

Arthur slammed his hand down on the table, shaking it. "Chinese have cutters of their own."

"We agreed Arthur." Somewhat undeterred by his brothers anger. "I'm taking charge of drumming up new money."

"What if Monaghan Boy wins, Tommy? You fixing races now?" Arthur rubbed his hands furiously, trying to channel his rage. "Do you have permission from Billy Kimber to be fixing races, hmm? Then whats got into you? You think we can take on the Chinese and Billy Kimber? Billy's got a bloody army!"

"I think, Arthur. That's what I do." He lifted himself from the wall and walked towards his brother, pressing his hands down on the table and leaning towards him. "I think, so that you don't have to."

Admitting defeat, Arthur sighed. "There's news from Belfast."

Tommy pulled open the office door and stepped back into the parlour. Arthur, however, was hot on his heels. "I'm calling a family council tonight at eight o'clock. I want all of us there. You hear me?!" He shouted after his younger brother as he disappeared out of sight. "There's trouble coming."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"On the house Mr Shelby." Harry Fenton placed the bottle down in front of him, smiling.

Thomas said nothing but placed two coins on the bar, taking a drag of his cigarette. He glanced over his shoulder and caught the eye of his former comrade, Freddie Thorne. Turning back to the bar, he waited until he approached.

"I'll take a mild." Freddie placed the empty glass down. Reaching over to the coins left on the bar, Freddie reached over and pushed one towards Harry, earning a concerned look from the barman who's eyes now flitted between the two. "Cheers Thomas. Good health to ya." He turned around and took a drink. Placing the glass back on the bar, Freddie lifted up Thomas' cap and inspected the edging. "Crown of a Prince. Soon to be King, I'd bet."

"You don't bet." Thomas didn't look at him, choosing to tap the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray in front of him.

"No, but these past few days I've been speculating."

"About what?"

"One of my union comrades has a sister, works in the telegraph office at the BSA factory. She says over the past week, they've had messages coming up from London to the brass. From Winston Churchill himself. Something about a robbery." His voice was lowered and he moved closer to Tommy. "A robbery of national significance, it said. She found a list of names, left on the telegraph machine. And on that list, was your name, and my name, together. What kind of a list would have the name of a communist and the name of a bookmaker side by side?"

Tommy put his glass down on the bar and turned to his former friend. "Perhaps, it's a list of men who give false hope to the poor? The only difference between you and me Freddie, is that sometimes my horses stand a chance of winning."

Freddie turned his body towards Tommy and leaned in close to him. "You know, there are days when I hear about the cuttings and beatings that I really wish I'd let you take that bullet in France."

Tommy smirked at his statement. But despite the bravado, he was immediately transported back to that rainy day in the trenches. They were exhausted. The sun had only just risen but they hadn't slept. The night had been long and weary, taken up with trench raids and surprise attacks on the enemy. It had been successful, but now, they were exhausted. He remembered the look on Freddie's face that day. He remembered it as though it was yesterday. His skin was grey and his cheeks hollowed. Unsurprising given the poor diet they had. As they started to make their way up the trench, shouts and screams sounded around them and suddenly, men were disappearing over the top. Hearing many German voices nearby, they both grabbed their rifles and instinctively climbed up the trench wall and out into the open land. The sound of gunfire assaulted their senses but Tommy had pushed it to the back of his mind as he had raced out ahead of his friend. One shot in particular rang out in his ears. He wasn't sure which direction it came from but It was only as he felt his body collapse to the ground, did he realise the impact of the shot. He waited for the pain to kick in, but he felt nothing.

"Get him out of here!" He was startled by the sudden shout from above him. Another soldier was perched down beside him, his gun aimed. A further shot rang out and it was only then that he realised the soldier had shot down an approaching enemy. "Are you deaf? I said get him out of here!"

Tommy's eyes had widened as it finally dawned on him that he hadn't been the one who was hit. He glanced over to his left to find Freddie lying beside him, motionless. Immediately getting to his feet, he had thrown him over his shoulder and ran back to the trench as fast as his feet could carry him. Fellow soldiers lay in wait for them, helping him back down into the trench. It was then that he realised Freddie had taken a bullet for him.

"Believe me, there are nights I wish you had." He was brought back to reality, pushing the memories from his mind. But they were only gone for a few seconds when the Garrison doors were swung open with a huge force. The punters around the tables jumped to their feet. Yelling echoed around the pub as Daniel Owen burst through the doors, knocking chairs out of the way and throwing tables around as if they were pieces of paper. Drinks crashed to the ground as Freddie and Tommy rushed towards the screaming man, finally grasping hold of him.

"They're gonna get me!" he screamed, resisting their grip.

"On three! One, two, three. Down!" Freddie shouted and both men pulled him to the ground, holding him down. "Breathe, Danny! Breathe!"

"They're gonna get me!" he cried into the wooden floor, tears pouring from the corners of his eyes.

"Danny. Danny, you're home." Thomas spoke soothingly, grasping onto the mans shoulder. "We're all home, in England. You're not in France. You're not an artillery shell, Danny. You're a man. Eh?! You're not a whizz bang. You're a human being Danny. You're alright. You're alright. You're alright."

He felt Danny's body relax. His eyes were still wide with fear but the outbursts had eased. Sensing this, both Freddie and Tommy pulled him to his feet. "It's alright." Tommy reassured him, gripping onto his shoulder and staring straight into his eyes. He could see the fear in his eyes. He gripped onto his chest as though he was having a heart attack. Beads of sweat poured down his face as realisation finally hit about where he was.

"Did I do it again?" his voice was high pitched with fear. Tommy nodded, causing him to finally allow the tears fall from his eyes and claw the hat from his head.

"You did it again, Danny." Tommy's fingers wrapped around the back of Danny's neck and he pressed their foreheads together. "You've gotta stop doing this, man."

"Mr Shelby, I'm sorry."

"Its alright. You go home to your wife now Danny. Get all that smoke and mud out of your head eh." Tommy guided him towards the door.

"Yes Mr Shelby. I'm sorry."

Tommy watched as he disappeared out of the door. He could empathise with him. He knew what it felt like to have never truly left France behind. True, he didn't have episodes in the same way Danny did, but he recalled the number of nights he went without sleep. The nights where he felt as though he was back in the tunnels under enemy lines. He would dream that he was surrounded by the mud and dirt as he scraped away at the tunnel walls. But then he would stop, because he could hear someone else. Someone else scraping. The sounds of the enemy pick axes were burrowed in his mind and he could find no escape from them.

"Mr Shelby, you need to do something about him." Harry was exasperated as he began picking up the damaged chairs and tables.

Ignoring him, Tommy made his way back to the bar with Freddie following behind. "Damn right Harry. You pay the Peaky Blinders a lot of money for protection. You're the law around here now, Tommy, aren't you? Maybe you should put a bullet in Danny Whizz Bangs head like they do with the mad horses. Maybe you'll have to put a bullet in my head someday too."

Placing his hat back on his head, Tommy made his way to the door. "Bring the bill to the Peaky Blinders." He pointed at Harry. "We'll take care of it."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

May 24 1919

The last trip she had made north remained fresh in her memory and as she boarded the train at Kings Cross, she sighed with relief as she managed to locate a seat, despite the large influx of passengers who boarded with her. Staring out of the window as the train pulled out of the station, she tried to force herself to relax, but somehow, she couldn't find the ability to do so. Her heart was racing with anticipation. She hadn't told her mother she was coming back for fear of news spreading. If Thomas was in Small Heath, she didn't want him to know. Drawing her line of sight away from the outside world, she scanned over the faces of her fellow passengers. Men were still trying to pack away large luggage cases. Women struggled with small children and families collapsed onto nearby seats, somewhat grateful of the sanctity of the carriage. The mood around was somewhat sombre and Emily felt as though she fit in perfectly.

"Heading home?"

She looked to her right. An older woman was occupying the seat beside her and she appeared to be travelling alone.

"Something like that. I live in London but my mother lives in Birmingham. I'm going back to visit them."

"Oh that's nice dear. My children don't make much effort to visit me anymore." She looked forlorn at the very mention of them. "Keep in touch with your mother. You'll never understand the joy it brings until you're in that position yourself. By then, its too late."

Emily nodded but didn't respond. She suddenly felt guilty. "I actually haven't seen my mother for a long time."

"Oh really?" she looked surprised.

"I was in France for quite some time. During the war. I'm a nurse." Emily explained.

The woman's mouth slightly gaped. "Oh, dear. How very fortunate that you came home in one piece. I'm sure your mother is excited to see you."

"I haven't actually told her I'm coming. You see, I wasn't sure if I could. I'm not just going back to see her. There was a man. A soldier." Emily looked down, wringing her hands profusely. "He lives in Birmingham. We were writing, back and forth. I haven't heard from him in some time though. I wasn't sure if I should come, in case he stopped writing because he didn't want anything more to do with me. Or if something had happened…." Her voice drifted off, the thought of anything having happened to Thomas felt like a punch to her stomach.

"Oh, dear." The woman lifted a gloved hand and placed it gently on Emily's clasped fingers. "If anything, at least it will give you some closure. It can't be easy, I understand. But, if its any consolation, if he has purposely stopped writing then he is a foolish young man letting a beauty like you slip through his fingers."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you. I think I just need to know either way."

The woman nodded and gave her hands a quick squeeze before releasing her. Emily leaned back in her chair and allowed her eyes to close allowing the rock of the train to send her into a soothing sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She walked like a woman on a mission with her green coat and skirt contrasting against the dull Small Heath background. Heading straight for the Garrison pub, she pushed open the door to find the owner sweeping up the floor.

"I'm here about the job as a barmaid." Her accent was an unusual sound to Harry's ears and it caught him by surprise. Lifting his head and pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he stopped what he was doing and turned to face her.

"Are you mad?"

"Am I what?" she asked, slightly perturbed by the question.

"Do you know about this place?" he asked.

She took a few steps towards him. "I saw it in an advertisement."

Glancing over her again, he turned back to the job he was doing. "Jobs been filled."

"It was in yesterday's paper." She rebuffed.

"Believe me love, I'm doing you a favour." She was keen and unrelenting, that he couldn't deny."

"I'm not asking for favours. I'm asking for employment." She was getting irritated now.

Harry stopped again and straightened himself up. A smile appeared on his face as he looked her over yet again. She was pretty. Naturally so. He couldn't allow her to spend any time here. They'd eat her alive. "You're too…..nice."

"How would you know?"

"And too pretty." He continued. "They'd have you up against a wall."

She was persistent though, handing him references and beginning to finish up the jobs he still had to do. All whilst carrying a tune to the Irish folk song, Carrickfergus. Taken aback, Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"In Ireland, my singing made them cry and stop them fighting." She explained.

"I hope you know a lot of songs."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hello!"

Grace turned, relishing the slight break from the rowdy crowd who surrounded the long mahogany bar. For an afternoon, she hadn't expected it to be this busy and wondered how Harry had been managing on his own for so long. She took a few tentative steps towards the man who had appeared at the hatch. His presence filled the small space and from what she could see of him, he was incredibly well turned out. Caught by surprise, he stared at her for a few seconds too long before finally collecting himself.

"I need a bottle of rum."

Grace opened her mouth to speak when Harry's voice sounded beside her. "Grace, whatever it is, its on the house."

"A whole bottle?" she asked. "white or dark rum?"

"I don't care."

She turned away from him and made her way back along the bar, lifting a bottle from the shelf. She could feel his eyes burning into her the entire time, but she didn't allow herself to turn back around until she was taking the bottle back to him. Placing it in front of him, she spoke. "Harry's says its on the house."

"Are you a whore?" he asked suddenly. Her mouth opened slightly, somewhat unsure of what to say. "Cause, if you're not, you're in the wrong place." And with that, he turned and disappeared from her sight.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thomas lay in bed that evening. He lit a small candle before reaching into his drawer and pulling put the long pipe. Piercing the small ball of opium resin, he placed it within the pipe and hovered it over the burning flame. Resting it down on the table, Thomas lay down, placing his head on his pillow. He allowed his eyelids to close, praying for some solace during the night ahead. It was immediately clear that was not going to happen. Behind his eyelids, the images of him, Danny and Freddie appeared. Their faces were wet and sticky with dirt and sweat as they crawled along the tunnels. As the screams and shouts sounded in his subconscious, Thomas' body jerked awake and he immediately sat upright, taking deep, hurried breaths. Rubbing his eyes and feelings the beads of sweat form on his forehead, he tried desperately to push the thoughts away. He thought back to the events of the day. Leaning back on his pillow, he closed his eyes and pictured the new barmaid. Grace. He had heard Harry calling her Grace. It suited her. She had taken him by surprise, being unaware that Harry had employed such a girl to do such a horrendous job. Her voice was soft and she looked incredibly out of place, serving in the Garrison. He couldn't deny she was attractive, and what surprised him the most, was that he had noticed. Apart from paying the occasional visit to Lizzie, the local whore, he hadn't even thought about another woman. Not since the war. Not since Emily.

 _Emily._

He couldn't understand why he had never heard from her again. It had been so long since her last letter. Just over a year. He sat up and pulled open the drawer once more. Pulling out the pile of papers, he began reading through them. So much emotion in her letters. Feelings that he wasn't even sure if he understood anymore. He read over the last letter he received from her. Confusion was evident in her words at the mixed feelings she felt about being sent home. He could empathise completely and had explained this in his response to her, but she had never replied. Was it right that he felt guilty for finding Grace attractive? He had never even given another woman a second look since arriving home from France but now, he was feelings things he hadn't felt in months. He was under the impression that he and Emily would have met again after arriving home. He had been hopeful that she would have been there, waiting for him. He remembered scouring the station platform when he had arrived back in Birmingham. Sure, he was pleased to see his family again, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed when he didn't spot her face in the crowd. He closed his eyes and conjured her image in his mind. Despite it being a long time since he had last seen her, he could picture her almost immediately. How could he forget her long ebony coloured hair against her tanned skin. She looked somewhat exotic. The first time he heard her speak, he was almost shocked to hear the cockney accent come from her lips. Opening his eyes again, the image of her disappeared. He knew he had to move on with his life, and he had an idea of exactly how to do that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 – Fantasy versus reality**

May 26 1919

"I'm so sorry, Mr Shelby." Grace stuttered as she threw the contents of the pail out into the street, narrowly missing Thomas' leather shoes. He stepped back, ready to allow his anger to get the better of him, until he looked up on hearing the soft tones of her voice. "I'm Grace, by the way."

He nodded, a slight smirk on his lips. "I know who you are."

Her eyes diverted from him, feeling slightly self conscious at his attention to her. "What's his name?"

Thomas glanced over at the horse, gripping tightly onto his reins. His head bobbed around slightly, somewhat alarmed by the noise surrounding them. "He doesn't have a name."

"Poor boy deserves a name."

"Do you have something to say to me?" He asked, seeing right through her.

Taking a deep breath, Grace felt her hands grip tightly onto the handle of the pail. "The other night, you came into the pub when I was singing. You said singing wasn't allowed. I'd like there to be one night a week when there's singing. I think it would be good for everyone. Saturday nights. Harry was too afraid to ask you."

"But you're not?" he challenged.

She studied him for a few seconds. Under his newsboy cap, she could see a dusting of freckles across his high cheekbones and nose. His eyes were piercing blue and he had eyelashes that many women would kill for. His crisp white shirt collar sat tight against his clean shaven skin. "I am. But I love to sing."

"You sound like one of those rich girls who comes over from Dublin for the races. Do you like horses?" He asked, pulling his gaze away from her and walking around the front of the horse. Pulling himself up into the leather saddle, he looked back at her. "How do you fancy earning some extra money?"

"Doing what?" she asked, intrigued.

"Dig out a nice dress. I want to take you to the races." He offered her no more information, tapping the horse slightly in the ribs with his heels until he took off down the street and out of sight.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

May 31 1919

Emily had barely ventured out since arriving back in Small Heath. Her mother had been fussing over her ever since she had arrived, but she refused to admit the real truth as to why she was really there, preferring to allow her family the satisfaction of believing it was purely for them. But truthfully, she went to bed at night, dreaming of the elusive Mr Shelby. Or should she say, Sergeant Major Shelby. Her heart warmed as she pictured him. She thought back to the afternoon they had spent before the war, sitting against the old tree trunk, wasting the day away and enjoying the uninterrupted time they had before everything changed. Pulling herself up from the sofa, she grabbed her coat from the nearby hook and put it on. She knew she couldn't stay holed up inside for the remainder of her stay so she made her way towards the front door, deciding to head back to the last place she was happy here.

As she made her way through the streets, she kept her head down, her hat sitting tightly in place, shielding her from sight. As she approached the Garrison Pub, she remembered her visit the night she had first arrived in Small Heath. It was also the night she bumped into Tommy, although she hadn't known it then. Pulling her dark coat tight to her body, she continued walking, trying to blend into her surroundings. Something that couldn't be said for the woman standing in front of the main door to the pub. Her striking red dress and hat screamed across the dull brown landscape behind her. Her blonde hair was hung in loose ringlets around her face. An unusual style for the time, Emily couldn't help but think. It was strange for a woman to not have their hair pinned back from their face yet, she seemed to suit it. As she was walking by, the woman started moving towards her. She was unsure at first and her eyes began darting around. It was only then that she noticed the car pulling up a few feet away from her so she stopped before she stepped out in front of it. She watched as the blonde woman made her way towards the car, waited on the door being opened and then finally stepped up and took her seat in the front. Emily glanced over the man sitting behind the steering wheel. She could only see him from the back through the gaps between structure of the car but she could tell he was young. His harsh haircut was evident from under the sharp newsboy cap he wore. Taking a step to the side, she tried to get a better look at him but just as she did, he pulled away down the street.

Xxxxxxxxx

Grace sat in the front seat, stealing glances at Tommy as he drove them through the streets of Small Heath. Truthfully, she had no idea what he had in store for them. She had expected others to be in the car when he had arrived, so to find him alone had been a pleasant surprise. Despite her superiors orders, she had been quietly pleased to find they were travelling together. She knew this was dangerous territory. She had her orders. Inspector Campbell had been very clear on this point, but each time she came into contact with Thomas Shelby, she felt herself growing more enamoured with him. He had a certain air about him. Charisma. And she definitely couldn't deny that she found him incredibly attractive. They spoke briefly on the journey, but didn't discuss anything too in depth. She sensed he was a private man, choosing not to divulge anything about himself or his family which wasn't already public knowledge. Truthfully, she probably knew more about him than most, based on the dossier given to her ahead of her arrival in Small Heath. But, she didn't know everything, and she wanted to know more than he was telling her.

The conversation finally came to an end as they pulled up outside the racetrack. Tommy led her from the car and into the building, navigating her through the crowded corridors before finally making his way through a back entrance.

"Are you sure we're allowed in here?" she asked, nervously.

He kept his hand on the small of her back as he guided her through. "Well, I prefer to come to the races the back way. It keeps me out of trouble. Tracks are lawless places. I can't stand petty criminals. This way."

"Will we get to lay a bet?"

"Nah." Tommy directed her around a corner. "Gambling's for mugs. You're lucky you're with me or you'd be wasting your money on fixed races."

"I always wondered, how do you fix a race?" she hoped her question wasn't too out of the ordinary.

"How should I know?" he batted away her question, placing a cigarette to his lips. "Ok, you do the talking."

"What?" she was suddenly on edge. Tommy's arm was tight around her back as he manoeuvred her into a more crowded area, trying to avoid being hit with swinging doors.

"Tell security you are Lady Sarah Duggan of Connemara. You got lost when you went to look for the boy riding your horse, Dandy Flower. If they ask about me, say I'm Prussian and don't speak a word of English. Come on posh girl." He teased. "Earn your three quid."

Knowing she couldn't back out if she was to find out any more about him and earn his trust, she made her way towards the security team with Tommy standing behind her. Remembering his instructions, she smiled at the men and batted her eyelashes, repeating the information he had given her. Seemingly impressed with her charm, the men stood aside to let them through, not even questioning the man beside her. The sound of the band was unexpectantly loud as they made their way towards the nearby balcony. Looking out across the crowd of people, dancing, smiling and drinking, Grace removed her hat and shawl as Tommy lit another cigarette.

"I still prefer the Garrison." Tommy broke the silence between them. "Do you dance?"

She felt slightly awkward. It was strange seeing him in these surroundings. He seemed more relaxed than she had ever seen him. Glancing up at him from under her eyelashes, she smiled. Unsure of the reasoning for his question, she decided to toy with him. "If I'm asked properly." She folded her arms and turned her body towards him in brief expectation.

"Lady Sarah Duggan of Connemara. Will you dance with me?"

Smiling again, she nodded briefly and accepted his offered hand and followed him as he led her towards the dancefloor.

Thomas held her closely as he moved her with ease around the dancefloor. He turned her around thus enabling him easy view of his target. Billy Kimber sat at a nearby table with his accountant and wife. His eyes fell upon the poor woman sitting to his left. She looked incredibly bored, sitting there whilst he conducted business. As he turned Grace again, he moved them closer to the edge of the dancefloor, smirking as he finally caught Kimber's attention. Quickly checking his watch, he knew Arthur and the rest would be there any time now. He spun Grace delicately across the dancefloor, moving her towards the nearby windows.

"Either your left leg is stronger than your right or we're making a getaway." She whispered, gripping tighter onto his hand.

"Neither."

"I hope this doesn't involve razorblades." She warned.

"I've decided to move up in the world. Become a legitimate businessman." Tommy explained, stepping in front of her and heading directly for the window.

"Oh my god, you're serious."

"I'm always serious." He forced open the window, turning his head as Arthur appeared in the frame.

"We chased the Lees across the track, right the way down the Devon Road." Arthur threw the bags he was carrying down onto the floor. "We got every penny. Nice dress. You can wear that to my pub." Arthur smirked, glancing over at Grace, eyeing her up and down.

"Buy the boys a drink. Anybody hurt?" Tommy asked, checking over the cuts and blood covering his brothers cheek.

"A few cuts and bruises."

Thomas patted him on the shoulder before turning away from him. "Off we go, Lady Sarah." He summoned her to follow.

Carrying a number of the bags, he forced his way through the crowd and headed straight for Billy Kimber's table with Grace trailing behind him until she reached the edge of the bar. Taking the table by surprise, he never spoke as he piled the bags down in front of them, coins spilling out across the tablecloth. "Your money, Mr Kimber. Rescued from the Lee brothers and returned to you with a request for a fair hearing. Your own protection is failing Mr Kimber. Your boys are taking cuts. I want to suggest than from now on, you contract out your racetrack security to the Peaky Blinders. We would be saving you a lot of money Mr Kimber. A lot of money. In return, you give us five percent of the take and three legal betting pitches at every race meeting north of the River Severn, rising to six after one year if we are all satisfied with the service. What do you say Mr Kimber?" By the time he was finished, Tommy had sent himself down at Kimber's table and lit a cigarette.

Kimber stared him out for a few seconds before replying. "I say you talk business to my accountant. I want to dance." He got to his feet and headed towards Grace, exactly what Tommy had hoped for. He continued talking business with the accountant, although he couldn't help every so often, glancing over at Kimber dancing with Grace. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. He had brought her here, purely for this purpose. To serve as a distraction for Kimber, but now he was dancing with her, he felt something he hadn't felt for a long time. Envy? Jealousy? He wasn't sure exactly. He continued talking until he felt the presence of Kimber appearing back at the table.

"Looks like you two are making a deal."

"We are making progress." The accountant agreed.

Kimber took his seat and turned back towards Tommy. "Then let me throw a small condition into the mix."

Xxxxxxxxx

The afternoon began to draw to a close as the previously warm breeze started to grow cool. Emily rested her head back against the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. She knew she had to make her way back home shortly. Her mother had made her promise to come home at a reasonable time today as she was working late at the local bakery and someone had to be there to feed her siblings. Sighing, she pushed her hands down on the ground and forced her into a standing position. Lifting her discarded coat from a low branch on the tree, she pulled it on, turning her vantage point back towards the town of Small Heath, out in the distance. She thought back to the last time she had been here. It had been a similar afternoon of sitting, doing nothing, just enjoying the view and the peace and quiet. That was, until she had been interrupted by a handsome stranger. Emily smiled as she recalled the moment. It was almost bittersweet now. She never ventured out into the town, so the chances of them ever bumping into each other was slim. That said, she didn't even know if he was even here. Had he come back to Birmingham after the war? Was he even alive? She had no clue. She still hadn't plucked up the courage to ask around for his whereabouts. She didn't want to potentially upset or anger anyone. Plus, it had been over two years since she had last encountered him at the hospital in France. Two years since she had last seen him. If he was alive, he could be married by now. He could have children. Was she really sure she wanted to expose herself to that pain and hurt? She didn't know. Shaking her head briefly, Emily pulled her coat tight to her body and tied it tightly, cutting off the cold air from attacking her skin. Taking long strides, she navigated her way back to the town.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Charlie Strong wiped his brow with a cloth. It had been a long day. The Blinders work at Cheltenham had taken up most of the day but since his return, he and Curly had been busy mucking out the stables. Now, he needed a drink. Throwing the rag down to the ground, he stepped out into the cool air and made his way through the streets towards the Garrison. He wasn't sure when Tommy would be returning, or if he even would. He had heard the sound in his nephews voice after he confirmed he would be taking the new barmaid to the races. He turned the corner onto Garrison Lane, almost bumping into a young woman.

"Oh, beggin' your pardon, Sir." She whispered, glancing up at him.

"No damage done." Charlie gave her a hint of a smile as his eyes cast over her. "Wait a minute…" She had started to step by him, but stopped as he gently took hold of her arm. "Don't I know you?"

Emily looked up at him, slightly concerned at his statement. What did that mean? Was it a bad thing? She studied his features and tried to place him. "I'm….I'm not sure." She stuttered.

"Cockney." Charlie exclaimed. "I do know you. You were here. Before the war. You were looking for someone. A relative? You came into the pub." He pointed towards the building beside them.

Realisation crept over her face as she finally recognised the man standing in front of her. He was a bit greyer and had quite a few more wrinkles, but it was definitely him. "Yes. I was looking for my Aunt. Isabel Davis."

"I'm assuming you found her." He chuckled at his attempt at humour.

Emily smiled. "Yes, she was in the church as you said."

"I haven't seen you around here since then though?"

Emily shook her head. "No, I went back to London for a while, then I was sent to France. I only came back here a few months ago."

His brow furrowed. "France?"

Emily nodded. "I'm a nurse. I was stationed overseas for a while."

"I see. My nephews are not long back." Charlie stated, looking slightly forlorn. "I think a part of them stayed in France. They've never quite been the same. Thomas especially."

Her eyes narrowed on him. "Thomas?"

Charlie nodded but offered no further information.

"This wouldn't happen to be Thomas Shelby would it?" she asked tentatively. She was nervous about bringing his name up in conversation as she couldn't guarantee what the reaction would be. But the mere mention of someone called Thomas prompted her to query if this was the same man. She watched him apprehensively as his eyes focused on her.

"You know Thomas?" he finally asked.

"From a long time ago. We met before he left. I bumped into him that night I was looking for my Aunt. He introduced himself." She told him, partly truthfully.

Charlie nodded. "Luckily you met him before the war. He wouldn't do that now. What's your name?"

"Emily."

"Pretty name. Anyway, I must be off now." Charlie stepped slightly to the side to let her pass by.

"Yes, I need to get home also. It was nice to see you again." Emily smiled before finally continuing on her road home.

Charlie turned his head briefly and watched her walk away. She was a pretty young thing. Exotic looking almost. She certainly stood out among the women of Small Heath. So much so that he was confused as to why he had never heard of her being back by now. Surely a woman like that would have turned a few heads. Certainly those of his nephews anyway but he hadn't heard a peep from them. She had said she had been back for a few months so it was strange to not have heard a thing. Lifting a cigarette to his lips, he quickly lit it before pushing open the Garrison door. Taking a right, he made his way into the snug where he was surprised to see the Shelby boys sitting around the table. Arthur, typically had blood stains on his collar and cuts down his cheek. Thomas stood at the hatch where the barmaid was handing him a bottle of rum. He was surprised to see them both back so quickly, but judging by the scowl on her face, she imagined it hadn't gone so well.

"Here, Tommy. I just bumped into an old friend of yours outside. A sweetheart perhaps?" He smirked at him. She hadn't said as much, but Charlie knew that look in her eyes when she asked after him. Confusion appeared on Tommy's face, unsure as to who he was talking about and it didn't pass by Charlie, the look of surprise and disappointment on the barmaids face.

"And who exactly would that be Charlie?" Tommy made his way to the table and took a seat, flicking the cigarette ash into the ashtray.

Charlie glanced up and clocked Grace still hovering around the window under the pretence of wiping down the ledge. He turned back to Tommy and lifted the glass which had been poured out for him. "Quite a beauty she is."

"Who?" Tommy was growing impatient now. He hadn't given another woman a thought for months and he knew there was no chance it was Lizzie.

"A young woman by the name of Emily."

His hand stopped in mid air. He had been lifting his glass to take a drink, but the mere mention of her name made him stop. "Emily?"

Charlie nodded. "Now, she tells me that she only bumped into you outside of here when she first arrived. But, by the look in her eyes and your face right now, I'd say there is a bit more to it than that."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - Apologies for the long delay in updating. Thanks to everyone for their reviews, in particular the most recent ones I've received. They've been really constructive and helpful for me so thank you! so much so, I have edited Chapter 6. I wasn't happy with it when I originally posted it, and the feedback I've recently had has confirmed my feelings on it. So I've taken a bit of time and tried to rewrite it. I felt that originally, it was too rushed. I feel like I've managed to improve this a bit. It hasn't changed the overall focus of the story so don't worry too much if you've missed it.**

 **Thanks so much and please keep the reviews coming!**

 **Chapter 12 - Reunion**

The words were barely out of Charlie's mouth before Thomas was up on his feet and heading towards the snug door.

"Where did she go Charlie?" he demanded, his eyes wide.

"Clearly I've touched a nerve." Charlie chuckled, lifting one of the glasses from the table and taking a drink.

Reaching down, Thomas grasped tightly onto the lapel of his Uncle's jacket, taking him by surprise. "Take it easy Tom!"

"Tell me where she went Charlie."

Grace jumped from the sudden outburst, taken aback by Thomas' anger. She watched the scene unfold in front of her, trying to understand what was happening. She and Thomas had spent all day together, albeit it wasn't hugely successful given the situation she had found herself in Kimber's palatial mansion. She still felt angry at him for putting her in that position, but despite that, and despite her current instructions from her superior, she had been taken in by him. Now, she was curious about this woman who clearly had wound him up.

"She was heading East. I'm not sure where she's staying Tom. Remember she had an Aunt here. Isabel Davis. You remember her from church."

Saying nothing else, Thomas pulled his cap down onto his head and tightened his coat. Pushing open the snug door, he ignored the silence which drifted over the bar as he entered and made his way outside. Glancing up and down the street, he looked hastily around for any sign of her, but she was no where to be seen. Turning on his heel, he began heading east, following Charlie's instructions. He knew where Isabel Davis lived but somehow he knew she wouldn't be there. She was too independent to be still living with her family. As he traipsed the streets, he was growing ever impatient. Ready to admit defeat, he found himself standing at the top of Whitehall Road. Staring at the dull blue door a few feet away, he took several strides towards it, lifted his fist and rattled on the wood. Bringing his hand down, he clasped his fingers together and kept his head slightly bowed until he heard the sound of the door creaking.

"Yes?" the timid voice said, opening the door very slightly. "Oh, Mr Shelby."

He heard the fear in her voice as she stuttered his name. It wasn't overly unusual anymore. "Mrs Davis." He stated her name with authority.

She opened the door to him, afraid of the repercussions of sending him away. "What can I do for you Mr Shelby?"

"I'm looking for a woman. I believe you know her. Emily King?"

Her eyes widened as she thought of her eldest niece. What could he possibly want with her? "Erm, yes. I'm her aunt."

"Do you know where she is?"

"She'll likely be at home I would expect Mr Shelby. Can I get a message to her for you?"

"No, you can just tell me where that home would be." He stated, daring her to argue with him.

She paused for a second. "Can I ask what this is about, Mr Shelby? I worry about Emily. She's been through a lot. She hasn't quite been the same since…"

"France?" he finished for her. "I know, Mrs Davis. I was there too. But with all due respect, this is a conversation between Emily and I. Now, if you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of her house, I would appreciate it."

Knowing she wasn't getting rid of him without relenting, she sighed and provided him with the address. Knowing exactly where it was, he nodded a brief thank you to her and made his way down the street in search of her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What was all that about Charlie?" John asked, refilling the glasses in front of him. "Who is this Emily?"

Charlie shrugged.

"You clearly do know. Otherwise, why would you have brought it up?" John quizzed. "Tommy ran out of here. He obviously knows exactly who she is."

"Look John, I don't know what the deal is. All I know is, she was here before. Now she's appeared again and asking for Tommy once she knew he was here. I didn't know he was in here, otherwise I'd have brought her in. She asked about him briefly and that was it. But I could tell. She had that glint in her eye. He meant something to her."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Emily rested her head against the soft pillow. The sheets clung around her body as she lay in the darkness. It was late and the only brief sign of light was from the moon as it crept into the room through the small gap in the curtains. Closing her eyes tightly, she turned on her side and pulled the cover closer to her body as she willed herself to fall asleep. Gripping onto the pillow with her left hand, she took a deep breath as she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Almost succumbing to slumber, she was brutally pulled back to reality at the sound of a loud knocking coming from her front door. Pushing her eyes open, she waited for a few seconds, wondering if she had purely imagined it. However, she was proved wrong as the sound of the knocking appeared again. Sighing, Emily pulled the covers off of her body, shuddering at the harsh coolness which radiated around her bare legs. Sliding out of bed, she picked up her nearby robe which was hanging up on the back of the door and pulled it on. Making her way downstairs, she carefully approached the door and waited for the sound again. When it rattled once more, she tentatively approached, lifting up a nearby umbrella. Shaking her head at her poor choice of weapon, she placed her free hand on the door handle.

"Who's there?" she called out nervously.

"Thomas Shelby."

She froze. She wasn't sure whether it was hearing his name or just hearing his voice but her whole body stiffened, apart from her fingers which slightly flexed, allowing the umbrella to fall to the floor. Pulling herself from her stupor, she turned the key to unlock the door before taking a deep breath and finally pulling it open. She kept her head down, almost nervous to make eye contact with him. As the door was finally opened wide, Emily allowed herself to slowly raise her head, her eyes drifting over his attire as they went. She eyed his perfectly shined shoes, his incredibly well tailored suit, complete with gold pocket watch before her line of vision finally fell upon his face. She was taken aback. Other than his appearance, he looked different from the last time she had seen him. Two years had passed. But other than him being dressed in better quality clothes, he was exactly as she remembered him. Despite the fact the last time they had been in each others company, he had been lying in a hospital bed, he looked as he had done then. As if no time had passed. She gazed at the cap which sat on top of his head, and it was only then that she spotted his harsh haircut. The shaved sides wasn't something she was used to seeing him with. And it was only then that she realised he was the man who had been driving the car that morning.

"Emily?"

As the sound of her name fell from his lips, her attention fell back on his face. It was only then she realised that a few minutes had passed by without her saying a single word to him.

"I….I…."

"Can I come in?" he asked, eyeing her cautiously. He glanced over her form in front of him and shuddered as he took her in. He remembered her being slender, however, now she looked frightfully thin. Her dark ebony hair fell carelessly around her shoulders, signalling that he had disturbed her from her sleep. Her skin was paler than he remembered, and her eyes looked tired, as though they had lost their vivacity. He felt at that moment as though he wanted to look after her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her and tell her everything would be alright. That he would care for her. But he knew he couldn't. it had been too long since they had been in each others company. It was difficult. They had been so open and exposed in their letters to one another, however, they had only met in the flesh a handful of times. Did he have any right to feel that way about her? Did she even feel that way about him? He had asked her to wait for him. He had essentially bared his soul to her. He watched as she stepped slowly to the side, opening the door wider to allow him access. He lifted his cap from his head and made his way inside, slowly stepping past her. He turned to face her as she closed the door, locking it again. He heard her take a deep breath before she finally turned back towards him.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked.

He carefully considered her question, as he did with all things. "I heard you were back."

Emily nodded. "I didn't know you would be here. I hadn't heard from you in so long." He took a brief step towards her. "You didn't reply to my last letter."

His eyes narrowed as he considered what she was saying. "No, you didn't reply to my last letter. You wrote to me when you left France. I sent a letter back but never heard any more from you."

Her eyes widened at his revelation. It was then that realisation set in. She hadn't received his response. He had written to her, but she hadn't received it. He hadn't ignored her. She felt her eyes begin to water. They stung with regret and pain. She felt her knees begin to give way from underneath her. Before she could reach the floor, she felt him before she saw him. His arms wrapped tightly around her body and pulled her close to him, holding her up. As she allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace, she felt her frame melt into him. She felt her hands grip onto his waistcoat and her face buried itself into the crook of his neck. She couldn't stop herself as she took in his scent and felt the warmth radiate from his body. It was heaven. It was only then that she realised this was the first time he had ever touched her. The first time she had ever felt his hands on her and she relished every moment of it. Finally succumbing to the anguish, tears began falling down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey." He spoke, pulling slightly away from her, gripping her shoulders gently with his fingertips and feeling her skin through her thin robe. "What's wrong?"

"I thought you were dead." She spluttered, allowing herself to meet his gaze through her tear stained eyes.

He pulled her back to him, his fingertips twisting through the locks of her hair. His usual demeanour was gone. The angry, mean and heated Thomas Shelby was gone. She had that effect on him. He couldn't deny it. He felt all the anger he had endured since the war slipping away from him. He held her tightly, feeling her body heave against him with her sobs. "Hey, I'm right here."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and glanced up at him from under her long eyelashes. Her dark eyes searched his face. "We've lost so much time."

Thomas nodded. "We don't have to lose any more. We don't. I'm here." He lifted his hands and placed them on the sides of her face, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears. His calloused skin rubbed roughly against her soft cheeks. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to her forehead, causing her to shudder underneath him. Pulling back, he allowed his eyes to meet hers. They searched her for any reaction. Any indication that she wanted him. Unable to contain himself much longer, his eyes drifted down her face until they reached her lips. She watched him intently as his pupils danced across her face between her eyes and mouth. As his head began to dip towards her, she allowed her eyelids to close and her fingers gripped onto his waistcoat as she felt his slip back into her hair. His breath was hot on her face as he closed the gap between them, taking her mouth almost forcibly within his. Her breath caught in her throat as all of the anticipation of the last few years finally came to a thrilling climax. All of the emotion from their letter exchanges was felt between them as they gripped onto one another. Thomas' hands slipped from her head down her back until they wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her as closely to him as he could. Emily released his waistcoat and pressed her hands flat against his chest, placing some distance between them as their lips finally parted. Their breathlessness was evident as they stared at each other, almost unsure of what to say to each other.

"I don't want to lose any more time." Emily stated, staring into his blue eyes.

Thomas shook his head. "We don't have to." He closed the gap between them again, their kiss become more passionate. Slipping his hands down her body, he took her by surprise as he lifted her with ease. She responded immediately, allowing her legs to wrap around his waist, pushing her nightgown up her legs, baring them to the cool air, yet she couldn't feel it. The whole room felt as though it was on fire.

"Where?" Thomas' lips slipped to her cheek as he gasped the word.

"Upstairs." She found his lips again as she provided him with her blessing, knowing there was no way she was letting him slip through her fingers again.

He held onto her as he made his way towards the staircase, taking them one at a time. Their foreheads were pressed together. She pushed his cap from his head, allowing it to topple down the stairs behind them. Her fingertips slipped through his dark hair, enjoying the softness before they adapted quickly to the harsh haircut as her hand found its way to the back of his neck.

"Straight ahead." She murmured as she recognised the route from over his shoulder. His hands gripped tightly to her buttocks as he manoeuvred himself towards her bedroom door, kissing her once more before finally placing her down on the bed, allowing his body to engulf her.


End file.
